


A Court of Fire and Starlight

by LadyTess



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Mates, Post-Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTess/pseuds/LadyTess
Summary: Born into the cut-throat Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra had been surrounded by monsters his entire life and spent most of his time scheming for the crown his cruel father still possessed. His world is thrown into chaos when an unexpected source gets to his father before he can.Astra was raised in the flourishing Night Court and had been gifted with powers from the stars. When she takes revenge on an ancient High Lord, she is forced to bear the explosive consequences.The Mother had a wicked sense of humor and blessed the two rivals with a mating bond.*Will contain spoilers for ACOSF
Relationships: Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Eris Vanserra/Original Female Character(s), Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 20
Kudos: 99





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain spoilers for ACOSF. I took several hints that Sarah left throughout the novels and wove a story around my favorites (aka Eris isn’t a complete waste of space) to keep myself entertained until the next installment is released. This story takes place after what I am guessing is the overarching plot line for all the upcoming novels. I make a few mentions of war against the gods/true immortals etc. since that seemed to be the path Sarah might go down and I’m sure she will do it brilliantly.

Eris Vanserra had imagined his father’s death countless times over his long life.

When Eris was a child, he had hoped his mother or one of his aunts would finally run out of their endless patience and burn his father alive. During the first war over five hundred years ago, he had fought under his father’s command and wouldn’t have been upset if the King of Hybern had personally executed his father on the battlefield. He had no doubt that his younger brothers, who had been sent off to the estates of distant relatives in order to spread out the High Lord’s bloodline, were praying for the same outcome. 

As the years went on and continued his relentless training, his wish had evolved into him being the one to finally strike the blow that would send Beron’s head rolling. After the horrific fallout with his youngest brother’s peasant lover, he had decided that perhaps he would generous and let Lucien join him in the slaughter.

Under the Mountain, he had wanted nothing more than for his father to piss off Amarantha. Her nightly entertainment would have actually been _entertaining_ if Beron was the star, but as it turned out, they got along well enough due their shared distaste for mortals and Lucien.

Every once in a while, he entertained the daydream that Feyre Cursebraker and the High Lord of Night would storm the Autumn Court’s borders to shred Beron’s mind with their dark powers.

Not too long ago, he had even schemed to marry one of the other Archeron sisters, for he knew that Nesta wouldn’t have let Beron live past their wedding night with that temper of hers.

Even his most creative fantasies did not prepare Eris for the shock he felt when a small, ragged-looking female shattered the intricate Forest House wards and winnowed directly on top of the dinner table, just in time for the third course.

His jaw was threatening to hit the ground when she lifted a sword tipped in faebane, smiled wickedly, and then cut directly through the shield of flames with a precise slice that severed his father’s head from his shoulders.

Perhaps in time, he could gotten over the fact that he didn’t deliver the killing blow. He might have even rejoiced in the sound of his father’s head hitting the stone floor, had it not been for what followed.

As the girl turned her violet eyes toward him and watched the full power of the Autumn Court flow into his veins, he felt the mating bond snap into place.


	2. The Delinquent Desk

**ASTRA**

The first birds of early spring were singing their melodies outside. Astra could hear them from where she was seated at a desk in one of the sitting areas on the main floor of her father’s ornate study. Flying birds would be much more entertaining to look at than the worn pages of the book in her hand. She silently angled her body to face the large window over her left shoulder to see if she could get a glance at them, praying that shadows given off from the glass lamps lining the walls wouldn’t give away her movement.

The sound of a pen scraping on paper halted from the main desk in the room. Not good. He had been scribbling away for the entire day without stopping.

Astra grimaced as she heard her father’s cool voice float over to her compromised position. “Is there something out there more interesting than the book in front of you?”

“Just about everything is more interesting than this wretched book. Even the knots in the blue carpet have more appeal,” she retorted in a mockery of his cool tone.

She could feel a bit of that dark power slip out with his next words. “Care to remind me why you are meant to be reading, rather than enjoying the thawing temperature outside?”

Astra pursed her lips. She supposed it was desereved. Stealing, though she liked to think of it more as _borrowing_ , one of her father’s round shields hadn’t been one her better ideas. But at the time, she was in a bind to find an item large enough to her to crouch down in comfortably. The shield made a perfect improvised sled. Plus, she had thought that showing up at the top of one of the snow-capped barrier mountains surrounding Velaris with a shield that was used in battles against Hybern was the perfect way to make an impression. Indeed, it had thoroughly shocked the young male who had challenged her to the sled race.

She might have even gotten away with it, expect for her one tiny miscalculation.

She had let it slip her mind that if they continued far enough down the mountain, the snow would turn to slush and mud since Spring was about to be upon the city. She might have remembered if she hadn’t been so keen on maintaining her healthy lead halfway down the mountainside. Instead, she had been distracted by looking back to see if the the handsome Fae was gaining on her.

Right as she looked back for what must have been the tenth time, she slid past the last of the nicely packed snow and found herself losing control of the makeshift sled in the slushy snow. She could have used a bit of magic to get back on track, but that had been part of the bet. No assistance of the magical variety.

As she whipped her head back in line with her shoulders while veering off course, she found herself perfectly aligned with the trunk of a massive pine tree. The resounding crack the old shield smacking against the tree likely reverberated throughout the city below. Her face wasn’t spared from the impact either.

She must have blacked out from the pain for a minute or two. Before she could even fully peel her eyes open and grab the shield to winnow away, she had found herself in the tall shadow of her father, who was standing over her with a frown marring his pristine features. He shifted his hard violet gaze between the blood pouring out of her nose, the crumpled steel shield, and the frantic young male running up to them. She didn’t even manage to get a single word of defense in before he had winnowed all three of them away.

They had dropped the male off somewhere in the city below, her father likely having scared him off forever with a few threats in his mind. She then had to endure another scathing lecture on responsibility from her parents and had been sent to bed.

When she awoke, her bruised shoulder and black eyes weren’t punishment enough though. Not for the High Lord that ruled this city and the territory beyond. He had more creative and utterly boring ways of keeping his only daughter in line. One of which is having her sit silently while he worked through his endless amount of paperwork at the “Delinquent Desk,” which her brother had named years ago. She had been forced to sit at the dark wooden desk numerous times throughout her nineteen years of life. Far more times than her brother ever had.

When her father had pointed her toward the desk early this morning, there had been a special little surprise waiting on the ebony surface - an ancient looking book titled _The Devisive Rule of the Fourth High Lord of Night_. It must have been quite problematic to fill more than two thousand ratty, yellow pages.

She had been sitting quietly in the same spot for more than nine hours. He wouldn’t even let her escape for lunch. Semi-stale bread and cheese had simply appeared around midday in front of her. A prison meal.

She didn’t know how he could manage so much silence. He loved to hear himself speak most the time. He had probably been silently chatting with her mother all day using his Daemati abilities.

Her attention was brought back to the question at hand when she heard the tap of the pen on his desk again. A subtle reminder that his question was not rhetorical. Rather than give him the satisfaction of hearing her admit that what she had done was wrong, she diverted to her issue with the shield.

“Perhaps if your archaic shield had been in a museum where it belongs, rather than displayed in the training area, I wouldn’t have been so tempted to borrow it,” she drawled.

“Perhaps I should have left a dictionary for you, rather than that history book, so you could spend the day familiarizing yourself with the difference between the definitions of borrowing and stealing.”

As she narrowed her eyes and readied herself for a retort that would likely earn her another day as a prisoner of the Delinquent Desk, a lovely female pardoned her by striding into the study with a smile on her paint speckled face.

Astra’s mother stopped beside her chair and glanced down at the book she had been assigned to read. Her eyebrows shot up in amusement as her blue-gray eyes glanced towards her mate. No doubt a silent conversation taking place.

He must have gave in. She could see it when his violet gaze softened by a fraction. He was complete push-over when it came to his mate.

“Astra, you are free to go get ready for family dinner. Be ready in one hour. Your father and I have matters to discuss,” her mother sweetly said.

She wasn’t sure if it was the sweet tone that meant her father was going to spend the next hour being scolded or spend it tangled in her mother’s embrace on one of the couches at the far end of the room.

Rather than wait another second to find out, she bolted like an escaping prisoner out of the desk chair. As she was halfway out the door, she heard her father ask, “Did you learn anything today from your riveting reading assignment?”

A chiding, “ _Rhys_ ,” followed in the sound of her mother’s voice.

Glancing behind her she added, “I skimmed the middle fifteen-hundred pages of details and peeked at the end three hours ago. Apparently, a member of a rival court slit his throat with an ash dagger so that next in line to the throne could attempt to fix the mess he made.”

She was out the door and running up the massive staircase toward her room before she could hear a response.


	3. Free Fallin’

**ASTRA**

Fifty-five minutes later, Astra was pulling on her clothes in preparation for the Inner Circle’s monthly dinner.

She paired a deep navy sweater that billowed over her hips with tight leather pants and knee-high boots. It complemented her toned frame well. As she surveyed herself in the body-length mirror propped up against a pale blue wall, she couldn’t help but notice the mix of features she possessed from her mother and father. Tan skin and violet eyes were a trademark of her father, though she was still sporting a set of nasty bruises underneath. Even speedy fae healing hadn’t cleared them up yet. She had the classic Archeron golden-brown hair that she shared with her mother and two aunts. Hers flowed down in waves to the top of her rib cage.

One trait she didn’t share with her family was their graceful long legs. She stood at a petite height somewhere between her mother and Amren, though she often wore heeled boots that put her closer to eye level with her mother.

Her train of thought was broken by a soft tapping on her mind. _Do you want to head up to the House of Wind with your father?_

 _No, I’ll winnow myself,_ She instantly shot back toward her mother’s mind.

After a long pause, too long to be natural, her mother’s replied floated gently into her mind. _As you wish. Be careful of the drop to the balcony._

She rolled her eyes at that response.

While Astra’s short height set her apart from the rest of her family, the most noticeable and aggravating difference was her lack of wings. It had been a constant source of annoyance since she was a small child. She had been desperate for a set of her own from the moment she understood that Illyrian wings enabled flight.

Her brother had been born with a beautiful set of velvety, black wings. It was rather unfortunate that those wings nearly killed all three members of her immediate family during childbirth, but her aunt had solved that problem long ago. And yet, her father never could forget the image of his nearly dead mate and premature baby. Astra was fairly certain he was still plagued with the occasional nightmare about that day.

To combat that potential scenario, her parents made sure that neither of them had their wings out when conceiving her. There had still been some small chance that she would have been born with them anyways, due to her father’s heritage. As it turned out, she didn’t win the genetic lottery, nor did she inherit her mother’s shapeshifting abilities.

When she had asked her parents about it, their response was equal parts rational and irritating. Even with an Illyrian-shaped pelvis, it was still risky to birth a babe with wings and once had been enough for them. Nesta hadn’t bothered to test out her new pelvis yet either.

Astra knew she had stared at her reflection long enough to make her late, which would leave her in the worst seat next to Amren and she’d be forced to listen to the constant complaints about having to eat normal food.

She winnowed with a small flash of light to the boundary of the ancient wards above the House of Wind and then proceeded to free-fall thirty feet to the red balcony below. Even after several years of practice, her knees still buckled with the impact.

Luckily, she wasn’t the last one to arrive. After slipping through the glass doors and making her way to the informal dining area, she spotted several empty seats and strategically chose a seat next to her Aunt Elain, who was least likely to stir up trouble.

Elain looked as lovely as ever in a pale green gown. Astra noticed how her skin was glowing with a slight tan she had managed to acquire while “wintering” in the Spring Court lands. On the other side of her, Lucien had an even deeper tan that offset his single russet eye. They spent the Winter season living in a cottage near the High Lord’s estate so Elain could continue to grow flowers year-round and Lucien could help the Spring Court flourish after its near collapse several years back.

Lucien’s eyebrows rose a fraction when he beheld the splotchy bruises under her eyes. Elain must have heard what had happened or maybe even saw it with her cauldron-gifted sight, for she completely ignored them and gave Astra a sweet smile.

Azriel and his shadows glanced toward Elain and her mate, probably waiting to see if they would be the first to verbally acknowledge the bruises. Thankfully, the desire that Astra had been told once burned in Azriel’s eyes for her aunt had long since been reserved solely for the copper-haired female at his side. Gwyn, the part-time priestess and Valkyrie, sent Astra a wink from across the table with one of her bright teal eyes.

Lucien was spared from starting the conversation when her Uncle Cassian and Aunt Nesta emerged from whatever room they’d been holed up in. Their mingled scents clued everyone in on the activities they’d been engaged in.

Amren wrinkled her small nose and sent a glare to where Cassian and Nesta now sat at the table. “Only the uncivilized taste their dessert before dinner,” she hissed.

Astra could have sworn Varian swatted her under the table for her snide comment. A bold move from the Prince of Adriata. Astra wouldn’t dare lay a hand on Amren, even with whatever other-worldly powers she once possessed now gone.

Nesta didn’t deign her with a response and Cassian’s satisfied grin didn’t waver.

Apparently, Varian’s swat didn’t hit the mark because then Amren turned her silver eyes toward Astra. She mentally prepared herself for the blow that was going to come of of Amren’s small mouth.

“I heard you had a run-in with a tree yesterday atop one of the mountains.”

“Tell me dear Astra, did your face or Rhy’s shield take the brunt of the impact?” Cassian added with a smirk.

“What about that male you were with? Did my wicked cousin turn his brain to mush?” Mor chided as she breezed through the door in one of her usual gauzy gowns.

Her father’s voice, tinged with amusement, followed as he walked in holding her mother’s hand. “It would have been an abuse of my power to render his brain completely useless, but I certainly think I got my point across.”

Astra angled her upper body toward where they had sat down near the head of the table. Just as her eyes were narrowing in on her father, a voice cut in to her mind. _Don’t start a fight before we even get to eat._

Her eyes flicked up to the source of that pleading voice. Nix was sauntering in like he owned the place. He’d have to take their Aunt Nesta to the grave before she would sign over the deed.

She threw back her mental retort, _Last one to arrive gets to enjoy their meal next to Amren. Lucky you._

A slight flash of his violet-blue eyes was his only response.

Nyx was nearly a twin to their father. They shared the same inky black hair, though Nyx usually preferred the wind-blown look. Lightly tanned skin, lean muscle, an assortment of intricate Illyrian tattoos, and magnificent talon-tipped wings let everyone know that he was the son of the High Lord of Night. If there was any doubt, all it took was one tendril of darkness to slip out and then there could be no mistaking him.

The second his butt hit the seat in the wing-accommodating chair, Nesta politely asked her enchanted House to serve them dinner.

Astra tuned out her family’s chatter around the table and focused in on the delicious meal in front of her. Nesta’s House sure knew how to cook. A crunchy, winter-vegetable salad was paired with perfectly seasoned chicken. It was an effort not to inhale the entire meal after her prison lunch left her unsatisfied earlier. Just as she was reaching for the crystal drinking glass in front of her, she felt a blip of magic switch the liquid from red wine to water. She instantly scowled.

“Very subtle, Rhysand,” Amren drawled right as she downed her entire glass in one large gulp. Astra had a sneaking suspicion that the House was under orders to add a few drops of blood to her wine.

Her father’s face was a mask of innocence as he continued to eat his food.

At nineteen, Astra was technically old enough to drink but her father wasn’t a fan of her behavior when she was under the influence of wine and liquor. He often used the words irresponsible, undignified, and irrational to describe her behavior after a night of drinking.

At sixteen, he caught her after she snuck out to meet Nyx and his friends at a dancing club. That night was a blur and both siblings had been found passed out on the bank of the Sidra after making a drunk bet on who could swim across the strong current first. Nyx had won. _Barely._ They had both found themselves squished together on opposite sides of the Delinquent Desk for an entire week after that incident.

Astra strained her neck to see the contents of Nyx’s glass. It was filled to the brim with the sweet smelling wine. Apparently her father now thought him old enough at thirty-four to be on his best behavior when it came to drinking. She snorted at the thought.

Even with fifteen years separating them, her brother was nowhere near responsible. She knew he spent most of his time in Illyria drinking and taking females to his bed. He preferred to freeze his ass off in the mountains with the legion under his command and stay far from the prying eyes of their parents.

Cassian must have noticed her previous scowl and took pity on her. “Oh, give it a rest Rhysie. We used to do all sorts of stupid shit when we were her age.” He nodded towards where her father had picked up his fork with lethal grace. “Remember the time your father caught us running naked through the city streets after a few too many drinks?”

“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the story of you three idiots being forced to run up and down the stairs here,” Mor swiftly cut in, obviously aware that the High Lord next to her looked like he might launch that fork across the table at any moment.

“I think I’d prefer the stairs to sitting and reading that book all day,” Astra muttered under her breath. She must not have said it as softly as she thought because it earned a bellowing laugh from Cassian and a few soft chuckles from Azriel.

One side of her father’s mouth quirked up but he didn’t offer a response. Instead, he just began probing Azriel and Lucien on if they had anything new to report on the High Lord of Autumn, who had been suspiciously well-behaved since his little slap on the wrist from the other High Lords during the conflict with Koschei thirty-four years prior. He’d even been sending Solstice presents to the families of the other High Lords these past few years. Likely trying to prove that he had changed his treacherous ways after initially siding with the doomed Koschei. He managed to beat out Tamlin as the most hated High Lord. Quite the feat.

Lucien guessed that Eris must have managed to gain back some semblance of control over their father. Azriel’s spies hadn’t heard any whispers of something amiss at The Forest House either, so the conversation around the dinner table shifted to more pleasant topics and Astra went back to brooding over the ice-water still filling her glass.

After thirty more minutes of listening to the latest gossip and picking at her nails, Astra’s eyes zeroed in on her tattooed hands. Nyx and her had two identical crescent moon tattoos on their palms signifying a couple of their unfulfilled bargains. A small smile formed on her lips when she remembered their origins.

The bargain that created the crescent moon on her right palm was a secret only Nyx and her were privy to. But the moon of her left palm was infamous among the Inner Circle. It symbolized a bargain struck when she was only seven years old. Her father still scolded Nyx for suggesting it whenever the topic was brought up.

Nyx must have noticed where her eyes had strayed to. “Here we go again,” he announced to the table with his crooked smirk.

“Idiots,” Amren hissed under her breath. 

Her mother’s face paled when Astra threw her a mischievous smile. Her father slammed his wine glass on the table with more force than necessary and shot a swift, Don’t you dare, into her mind. Her smile only grew wider.

Astra took the comments in stride as she pushed back from the wooden table and made her way out the glass doors to the balcony with her brother on her heels. Her father, mother, Azriel, and Cassian were close behind. Everyone else got up to watch from the other side the glass doors, safe from the rising temper of the High Lord.

Her mother tried to step in front of her path and used her diplomatic tone to say, “Astra, this is completely unnecessary. You have nothing to prove.”

“Says the female who can form wings whenever she feels like it.” Her father let out a soft growl at her tone.

“Falling is not the same as flying and you know it,” her mother retorted.

“No, but it’s just as thrilling,” Astra said as she shot her a devilish grin. Nyx was trying to hold in his chuckles. Her mother’s response was lost on the wind as she got a running start and leapt off the balcony toward the twinkling lights of the city below.

Astra threw her arms out wide the instant her body was over the railing. For one single heartbeat she was able to experience that little moment of weightlessness. She imagined that’s what it was like to have wings and fly. Maybe it was why her brother couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

Too soon, the sensation had passed and wind began howling in her ears as she accelerated down towards the lights of the city below. It was an adrenaline rush. She was certain there wasn’t another feeling in the world that could compare to the thrill of hitting a controlled free-fall speed.

A familiar voice cut into her mind, _Twenty-five seconds - I’m impressed. Mother and father are not._

She sent a soft chuckle back to Nyx as she continued her descent. The lights below were coming more into focus, even through her tear filled eyes.

 _Thirty seconds._ His mental tone held a hint of concern.

 _ENOUGH,_ slammed into Astra’s mind with the full force of the Lord of Night behind it. She could feel the dark power pulsing far above her. Nyx was right, her parents weren’t impressed.

She hesitated for a split-second at the power in her father’s tone. That momentary lack of concentration cost her as she became entangled in a fierce wind current. Thrill gave way to fear as she lost control of her form and her body started twisting through the air. Panicking and falling didn’t mix well. She couldn’t manage to get a gulp of breath into her lungs.

Unable to get a gulp of breath into her lungs, she gave up and winnowed out of the sky. Her momentum prevented her from righting her body while winnowing, so she landed sprawled out on the front yard of the River House. She was going to feel that during training tomorrow.

 _Better luck next time, little sister._ Her brother’s snarky tone was mixed with relief. _Don’t start what you can’t finish._

Astra peered at the moon tattoo while hauling herself off the crunchy grass. _I may have started it, but you were the one stupid enough to make a bargain with a seven-year-old, she sent back._

It was true, she had no one to blame for the aching in her bones but her younger self. She let the memory of that day wash over her as she limped into the house and up the staircase toward her room.

_When she was seven, she threw a tantrum during family dinner at the House of Wind. She did not want to be flown home - she wanted to fly by herself. It had already been a sore subject for years at that point. Her food had been soggy with fallen tears and she was on the brink of magical outburst when her mother had finally sent her out of the dining room for a time-out._

_Like any upset child, she acted without rational thought. She slipped out the glass doors as quiet as a mouse to get to the the balcony beyond. At that point in her life, it hadn’t been clear if she might one day be able to wield some of the powers her mother had been gifted by the other High Lords. Nyx had some minor control over water and ice so she held out out that she might have one of the others._

_Tears were still streaming down her face when she climbed on the red railing and peered down. She had been so certain that she just needed one final push to manifest her mother’s shapeshifting abilities. Azriel had once told her that his shadows had first appeared when he had been pushed to the limit by his awful brothers. She had spent many nights alone in her room trying to grow wings after her parents had put her to bed, but she had never truly been tested._

_She never once considered the consequences of not growing wings - what might happen if she hit the ground far below._

_She was propelled off the balcony by a sheer force of will._

_It must have been intuition that sent her mother from the dinner table just in time to watch her daughter jump. To this day, Astra can still remember the sound of her mother’s scream that pierced the sky._

_It only took ten seconds of falling for Astra to realize she was never going to be able to grow wings. She had dug deep within herself in an attempt to unearth that specific power but was met with nothing. She didn’t even have enough breath in her lungs to scream or the commonsense to attempt to winnow. After twelves seconds, she had felt her father’s impenetrable shield lock into place around her flailing form. It took five more seconds for her mother to reach her, wrap her arms around her tiny body, and then winnow them to the safety of their home._

_Her brother crept into her room later that night after she had been thoroughly scolded. She was still sniffling and teary-eyed. Even at twenty-two years old, he was still a sucker for her tears. He crawled under the covers of her bed and pulled her close while the last of her tears spilled out. When there were no more tears left to cry, they laughed about how her father was probably begging Nesta to have her House amend the wards to prevent little girls from jumping off its many balconies._

_Nyx had somehow known that making her laugh wasn’t enough to bring the starlight back to her eyes. He knew all she wanted was to fly and she was likely to keep making stupid attempts until she conquered her own inner jealousy._

_His intuition was correct. At some point during the fifteen seconds she spent in the open sky, she had created a personal vendetta against that drop and wanted nothing more than to conquer it - even without wings. She knew it was irrational, but her heart was set. _

_He offered her a bargain in an attempt to control the situation and make sure she would never attempt it without him there to catch her if it went poorly._

_If she managed to jump off one of the balconies at the House of Wind while he was watching and let herself free fall until she passed the top of the highest building in Velaris, he would do one thing for her - any one thing no matter how big or small._

_It was sealed with a handshake and a zap of magic that left matching black crescent moon tattoos on their left palms._

_Their parents dragged him out of his shack in Ilyria and assigned him a month of silent reading at the Delinquent Desk when they found out._

Astra let her mind jump back to the present once she reached her room. It had been another failed attempt tonight. She had made the jump periodically over the last few years when her brother was in Velaris. She hadn’t worked up the courage to try again after that first attempt until she was fifteen, but she had made it a little farther each time since. Besides, she still hadn’t thought of what she would ask of her brother in return.

She was still mulling it over as she fell into bed for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get on my soap box, I want to say that I can get behind Elain with either Lucien, Azriel, or honestly whoever the hell she wants. Before reading ACOSF, I was dead set on Elain + Azriel, but I kept noticing little bread crumbs Sarah dropped that led me to believe that Azriel might wind up with Gwyn in the future. (The biggest crumb I noticed was that Nesta did not make it so Elain could have winged babies and I have a hard time imagining Elain never having children during her immortal existence) This is all assuming my favorite theory doesn’t come to pass, which is Elain being in kahoots with Koschei in an attempt to get her humanity back :)


	4. Star Blessed

**ASTRA**

Astra peeled her eyes open and immediately noticed the angle of the sun shining through her oversized window. Shit. She was already late. Her Aunt Nesta was going to eat her alive.

She frantically flung herself out of bed, not bothering to smooth out the silk covers. She quickly rummaged in her walk-in closet to find a clean set of Illyrian leathers. Splashing water on her face in the attached marble bathroom didn’t do much to bring life to her features.

No time for breakfast either. She knew she was going to regret that extra hour of sleep. She winnowed above the House of Wind and landed with a thud in the open air training ring. She couldn’t keep the wince off her face at the pain that shot up her legs. She tried to smooth out her features and blend into the surrounding females but it was too late, Nesta had already spotted her and was stalking toward her with lethal grace.

A wisp of silver flames burned in her gaze as she said, “Late again, Astra. One hundred laps around the training area should give you time to contemplate your lack of dedication.”

Her aunt didn’t let anything slide when it came to the Valkyrie legion. Forming the all-female legion had brought Nesta back to life after she had her humanity taken from the Cauldron. She had proudly led them in battle during the more recent war against Koschei and the other ancient creatures.

Astra gave her aunt a half-grin in return and ignored the other females as they finished warm-ups. Running as a punishment, _ha_. Cassian must have put her in a good mood this morning.

While most warriors-in-training might find running to be a grueling task, Astra did not. She was fast. _Unusually_ fast for High Fae. The Mother had thrown her a bone by giving her speed, rather than blessing her with wings. Nesta giving her one hundred laps was the equivalent of giving the other trainees forty to fifty laps.

Astra could run with all the momentum of a shooting star if she really pushed herself, but she chose a more leisurely pace for her laps today. Her slacking pace was still faster than many Fae could sprint. When she had finished, barely breaking a sweat, the other females were just beginning to split off into units for weapons training.

She jogged over to the opposite corner of the ring where the two females in her “unit” were waiting on her. They weren’t really a unit. Not like Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. They were outliers and would eventually part ways once they were deemed lethal enough. They were pleasant to each other but they had never broken past the barrier that separates acquaintances from friends. Astra thought there might be potential for an actual friendship, but she hadn’t done anything with them outside of training during the ten months since they’d been paired together.

Alette was a tall blonde Seraphim, a few years older than Astra. She had been forced to relocate to Velaris after her parents decided their immortal lives had become dull on Cretea and they wanted a change of scenery. One of her preferred pastimes seemed to be was scowling down her pale, pointed nose at Astra. Her white, feathered wings were lovely, expect for when Astra got a mouthful of them during one-on-one combat. She wanted to eventually join one of Prince Drakon’s legions, but had to settle for training with the Valkyries for now. It was the best Velaris could offer, unless she wanted to deal with the backwards Illyrian males. They’d likely pluck her feathers out and then force her to clean them off the muddy ground.

Pix, the third member of their dysfunctional ensemble, was a demi-Fae that spent the early years of her immortal life in hiding on the other side of wall before it fell. After discovering that she was no longer aging, she left the mortal world behind and made her way up through the courts to Velaris since its citizens were more accepting of her mixed heritage. She was wearing black Illyrian leathers that complimented her rich, chocolate skin and the mess of black curls that sprung out from every direction on her head. In that outfit, she might be able to blend into the shadows nearly as well as Azriel.

Pix fixed her chestnut eyes on Astra and said, “You looked like you were enjoying your punishment for being late.” A small smile formed on her lips. “Better not let Nesta catch on.”

Alette felt the need to add, “You make the rest of us look bad when you run like your life depends on it every morning.”

“It’s not her fault that those wings make you slower than dirt,” Pix retorted. 

“They’re heavy,” Alette huffed as she thrust swords into their hands.

Astra only rolled her eyes at them before getting in line to run through the technique exercises.

Moving through the standard eight cuts and blocks had become second nature to Astra, though her two training companions had only graduated to actual steel weapons within the past year. Cassian had gifted Astra her first small wooden sword as a fourth birthday present. She then spent the next few years using it to slash the legs of anybody that got close enough until she began official combat training at the age of nine.

Alette was poised to be a formidable opponent with a sword, her long limbs and muscled upper body giving her thrusts an extra edge.

Pix tended to be more of a safety risk with a sword. It would only be by pure luck if she ever managed to successfully slice the Valkyrie ribbon. She wasn’t completely useless though because what she lacked in swordsmanship, she made up for in archery. Her human father had taught her to hunt with a crossbow as a child and her aim was downright deadly.

By the end of the morning training session, all three of them were fighting against the tremors pulsing through their sword bearing arms. Pix looked like she might drop her sword on her feet at any moment. Even Alette’s face was flushed from overexertion. Astra was sure she looked similar since she could feel beads of sweat running down her neck.

All Astra could manage was a slight nod in their direction before making her way inside for lunch.

  
———

Astra made sure to be on time for her afternoon session, knowing that the consequences would _highly_ unpleasant if she arrived even a few seconds after the designated time.

Amren and Varian were waiting for her in a pine forest beyond Velaris, the former looking like a polar bear cub in her oversized, white fur coat.

The snow-covered clearing had been designated as her own personal magic training ring. She didn’t yet have enough control over her abilities for it to be safe to train within the borders of Velaris. It had only taken one accidental burst of power to crack the foundation of Amren’s apartment building. They’d been meeting in this location ever since.

“Shield,” was the only warning Amren gave before Varian sent a blast of water toward her face.

She barley managed to throw up a glowing shield in time. It wavered against Varian’s water but held.

Astra let go of her magic for a moment while Amren opened her mouth to comment but the only word the ancient female spoke was, “Again.”

And again and again and again. Varian’s fifth shot hit her square in the face when her shield cracked under its pressure. She was knocked on her ass and struggled to expel his warm water from her throat.

He sent a nervous glance toward his lover before evaporating the water with a flick of his wrist. He mouthed the word “sorry” while Amren stalked over from her perch on a large rock. Her gaze held the promise of hell.

Amren got straight to the point. "Just because you’re unlikely to ever hold the title of High Lady of the Night Court, does not mean you get to slack off in training. You mastered shielding three years ago.”

As usual, Amren struck where she knew it would hurt. Though the words stung, they rang true. Astra was _unlikely_ to ever don the crown.

It wasn’t that fact that got under her skin. It was the unknown that was left in its wake. What would she do as she got older? Take a position among her brother’s trusted circle a thousand years from now or did she have some other cauldron-damned destiny to fulfill? What exactly was she training day-in and day-out for?

The silver-lining was that her parents couldn’t throw the future responsibility of leading their beloved court at her whenever she misbehaved.

Magic had already chosen Nyx as the heir long before Astra was born.He possessed the aura that an heir gives off. It practically leaked out of him when he didn’t have a damper on his power. He could manipulate darkness like their father and all the Lords of Night that came before.

Astra’s power was of a more unusual nature - with ancient origins. There was no one more surprised than the ancient little creature currently berating her when the first hints of her abilities had been revealed. Though Astra had no memory of the spectacle, her mother had later let her see her point of view with their shared Daemati abilities.

_It was Astra’s second Starfall and we had just celebrated her first birthday a couple months prior. Rhys and I brought her along to the annual party we hosted at the House of Wind, even though it was far past her bedtime. I had finally managed to drag Nyx over to where the rest of our family stood on the large, red balcony. He had spent the majority of the evening trying not to let Rhys or I catch him dumping the contents of a flask into his drink. I was feeling festive and let it slide. Rhys had been too consumed by holding their squirming daughter all night to notice their son’s questionable behavior._

_Astra had finally settled into contentment close to his chest while they were waiting for first stars to appear._

_Cheers erupted from the city below when the first shimmering ball of light shot across the night sky. Right as that first star disappeared from view, Astra started wailing. It was not one of her usual cries that signaled when she wanted food or attention. It was a screech that made my heart nearly stop._

_Rhys frantically tried to sooth her with adorable little noises, but to no avail. Out of the corner of my eye I saw several more stars making their journey through the sky while Nesta gave Cassian a look that proved her point about not wanting children anytime soon. The crowd of Fae celebrating behind our group were starting to stare at Astra by the time I reached over to take her from Rhy’s arms, but I never got the chance to grab her._

_It happened has her wail hit its crescendo. All the stars halted their descent mid-flight. It was as if they had stopped to hear her cry. As if she commanded them to listen. An eerie silence descended over the crowd and until all that could be heard was her screams. Rhys had begun to panic. His wide eyes were darting back and forth between the frozen stars and our daughter. I knew he would have winnowed her home to where he deemed it safe if it wasn’t for the wards surrounding the House._

_A whooshing sound filled my ears as I whipped my head to the sky beyond to see them resume but they had altered their directory. They were now soaring directly toward us. Rhys threw up a Helion-approved shield but it was no use. The stars shredded it as they shot to our daughter._

_She stoped crying the moment they hit her. A bright and powerful burst of light was emitted on their impact and threw all of us back on the balcony except for Rhys, who was holding on to her for dear life. Pure energy was exploding out of her in the form of white light mixed with a violet hue. So bright, it burned away all of Azriel’s gathering shadows._

_A heartbeat later I was up off the ground and shoving my way toward my mate and daughter. Cassian had fallen in a warriors crouch over Nyx and Nesta was shielding them both with her power. I didn’t get to them first though. Amren had clawed her way through the energy field and was staring in awe at Astra. She fell to her knees and began muttering about how long it had been since the stars had chosen someone. By the time I managed to push my own magic through the energy shield, the light surrounding her had begun to dim down to a dark purple haze._

_Rhys was in tears and they were both covered in sparkling stardust. As I slowly approached, she began giggling and was trying to capture the glow that surrounded them with her little hands. Her happy gaze found my frantic face and I nearly hit the ground next to Amren. Her eyes were glowing. Not like Rhys’ sometimes did when he was using his powers or like Amren’s had long ago. They were an illuminated shade of bright purple and would likely burn your eyes out if you stared at them too long. After a brief seconds my eyes had already begun to water._

_Once I was able to wrap my arms around her and crush myself to her and Rhys, the starlight finally flickered out and more stars began their yearly journey over Velaris._

After that night, Amren had taken it upon herself to train Astra, though there wasn’t much to work with during those initial years. Once these sessions had evolved from babysitting to actual practice, Amren had been relentless.

The overarching lesson - absolute control was key. The luminous energy flowing through her veins could be shaped into anything with proper control. Shields, weapons, massive attack blasts - all achievable with enough skill and practice.

The problem - Astra lacked control. If she dug too deep into her power, it seemed to gain a mind of its own and was always dead set on release. It took nearly all her concentration to wrestle the magic into submission.

The few times she hadn’t been able to win that battle had terrified her enoughthat she now barely skimmed the surface of that well inside her.

The blazing energy that wanted to erupt from her body whenever she practiced her magic or lost control of her temper would blaze hot enough to vaporize everything in the vicinity. Astra suspected it was the reason Amren had insisted that _she_ be the one to oversee her training. Until Astra mastered control, it was unwise for the High Lord and Lady to be in range of her potential solar flares.

“You are the only one standing in your way of mastering this," Amren lectured. “You would not have been born with this ancient power if you weren’t meant to wield it. You won’t survive five minutes in an actual battle if you waste all your concentration on stamping out your magical potential."

Though fighting Varian in these woods was the closest Astra had ever come to battle, she knew Amren was right. Peace had been plentiful during the past few decades but wouldn’t last forever - not when Fae were so easily bored and had immortal lifespans to scheme and stir up trouble.

Astra prepped herself for the Varian’s next wave of attack as Amren hissed, “ _Again_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eris POV coming next...


	5. A Vanserra Family Dinner

**ERIS**

It was nearly Spring, but the air wasn’t getting warmer and flowers weren’t preparing to burst from the earth ready to bloom. This didn’t bother Eris. He had grown used to the never-changing seasonal magic that kept his father’s lands a crisp temperature year-round. Moderate during the day and nearly freezing at night. It had never once wavered in his almost six hundred years of life. So while the Solar Courts up North would soon be welcoming in the next season with elaborate celebrations, he would be partaking in the unnecessary Nynsar festival his father hosted every year to celebrate the end of seeding the fields.

Eris wondered if he could find a suitable reason to excuse himself from the festivities. He’d been pondering it for at least a hour now while he brushed clumps of fallen maple leaves off the railing of a rickety, wooden bridge. It was one of many bridges that crossed over frigid streams flowing directly from the Winter Court’s mountains.

There must be some plausible story his father would believe. Spying on another court? Sucking up to Fae nobility on the continent? Cultivating their strained relationship with the Northern-most court? He audibly groaned at that thought.

Rhysand wouldn’t allow him to step foot within those borders during the famed Starfall celebration. For all their talk of backing him to take his father’s throne, not a single member of that mysterious court had lifted a finger to help over the past few decades. Not since their heir had been born and Koschei defeated.

Keir, the scheming Steward, was in no rush to aid him either, but Eris wasn’t particularly upset by that lack of development. Keir was nearly as old as his father and they rivaled each other for the amount of unnecessary cruelty they had committed over their lives.

Alliances aside, Starfall would be intriguing. He had never seen it with his own eyes, but he’d heard of its beauty. It had even showed up in his dreams a few times over the years. He’d be willing to brave the death-glances from the Inner Circle if it meant getting a glimpse at a few migrating stars. Being absent from Beron’s party would just be the icing on the cake.

He stopped idly toying with the leaves to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. It wouldn’t matter if Rhysand and Feyre even bothered to extend him an invitation. He couldn’t leave his mother to attend their Nynsar party alone. It would be too cruel, even for him.

As always, he would do what was necessary. Don the mask of the entitled High Lord’s son he so often wore. If he faltered, the consequences would be dreadful. A chill went through him at the thought.

Eris glanced at the setting sun behind his back and knew that he had been wandering the woods for longer than he planned. He pressed the tips of his pale fingers against his tongue and let out a high-pitched whistle that was laced with a bit of magic. His pack of hounds could hear the sound from the farthest edges of the Autumn border, though they likely hadn’t ran too far off far today without prey to follow.

All twelve of his sleek, grey dogs were barreling toward his position on the bridge within sixty seconds. They could run as fast as the wind, maybe even faster if their prey was enticing enough. Blessed long ago with magic of their own, they are treasured by the few that can afford them and had been a symbol of the Autumn Court for over three thousand years. The twelve that now nudged Eris back to The Forest House were his most prized possessions.

———

By the time Eris made it back to the sprawling grounds and led his hounds to the kennels, he was late for dinner. The first course was already being eaten when he entered the formal dining room. Orange light from the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace cloaked his father’s middle-aged face in shadows and made the gold crown atop his head, forged in the shape of flames and set with rubies, appear to glow. The eerie lighting wasn’t dim enough to prevent Eris from seeing the tight line of his father’s lips and the predatory gaze fixed on his eldest son. The only sound in the room was the crackling of burning wood and the echo of Eris leather boots clicking against the floor as he made his way to his assigned chair.

The High Lord sat at the head of the table on the far end of the room with the fireplace at his back. The chair opposite of him, across the long rectangular table sat empty. It had once been the seat reserved for the Lady of Autumn, but Beron had revoked that privilege centuries ago by forcibly throwing his wife from the esteemed chair after her dalliance with Helion Spell-Cleaver came to light. She had been forced to eat her dinner on the cold, stone floor for months. Now, she occupied the elaborately carved wooden chair to the left of Beron and Eris sat at his right. His placement might be seen as a symbol of honor since Eris was the heir, but Beron generally preferred the more literal interpretation of the phrase - keep your enemies close.

Before Eris was even able to pick up his fork, one of his brothers said, “Since you are so keen on spending all your time with those dogs, why don’t you eat and sleep with them in the kennel as well. I can arrange to have a servant set upa cot for you.”

As the second eldest, Kane was constantly looking for opportunities to shame Eris. Anything to give him an edge over the heir. He and Eris were opposites in almost every way. Kane kept his red hair cropped short and wore a nearly permanent sneer on his face. His broad, muscular frame held the promise of pain if provoked and that pain morphed into inevitable death if he was armed with his double-edged battle axe.

He ranked 2nd on the _Most Likely to Kill Eris_ list. Beron topped that list.

“Give it a rest Kane. You’re just pissy because you had to spend all day in the fields checking up on peasant farmers,” Reed, the youngest aside from Lucien, grumbled as he chewed a biscuit.

Their father halted eating to interject. “And just how exactly did you spend your day?” A rhetorical question since he was sure to already know the answer. He continued in a deadly soft tone, “With that low-bred whore you keep trying to hide? Perhaps I’ll invite her to Nynsar. It would be rude not to give her a proper introduction to court life.”

Reed’s face visibly paled at the _insinuation_. Nothing good ever comes of a meeting between the High Lord and a faerie he didn’t deem worthy enough to share a bed with one of his sons.

Keeping females a secret was a constant struggle for all four of the remaining brothers in the Autumn Court. Eris hardly bothered with romance anymore because the consequences weren’t worth it. Watching a female he fancied get tortured, or in Lucien’s case - executed, was not high on Eris’ wish list. When he needed a release or desired a bit of pleasure, he’d find a female that could keep her mouth shut and didn’t mind being alone by the time the sun rose.

Beron had gone back to eating, but Eris saw how Reed’s eyes were glazed over in concentration. He was probably planning out how he was going to make his lover disappear because if Beron mentioned her, then he also knew exactly where she was and wouldn’t hesitate to have a member of his personal guard snatch her.

The Lady of Autumn gently tried to direct the conversation to a more acceptable dinner topic. “I sent out most the Nynsar invitations today. This year’s celebration is going to be a grand affair,” she said in her soft voice.

Eris fought the urge to roll his eyes. His mother had thrown many exquisite parties over the years, but they had become more forced recently. It was getting harder for her, for them all actually, to continue to turn the other way at the High Lord’s behavior. Even Kane seemed close to a breaking point.

“I’m sure it will be lovely mother,” Eris said, but it came out with less enthusiasm than he anticipated.

Two taps of the High Lord’s long pointer finger against the table was all it took for the servants, hidden from sight by magic, to serve the next course. Baked stuffing with turkey. _Again_. The seasonal magic stabilizing the weather would falter long before Beron changed the dinner the menu. After nearly six centuries of harvest-themed dishes, Eris’ taste buds had gone numb to the savory flavors.

Beron’s attention wasn’t fixed on the food though, it was aimed at his wife. "Did you send an invitation to Lord Saxen and his wife?

Eris’ mother’s russet eyes widened as she let out a hushed, “ _What_?”

All eating halted around the table. Eris was barely breathing, but his face gave nothing away.

They all knew Lord Saxen had fallen out of favor decades ago after his _first_ wife had been caught smuggling a portion of their taxable harvest over the Spring Court border. She’d been trying to help the many suffering faeries there after Tamlin abandoned them all for his beast form when he lost his bride. Beron sent several of his personal sentinels, a small unit known as The Flame Guard, to retrieve her and burn the rest of their harvest. She’d been tortured for weeks in the ancient dungeons underneath The Forest House until her body gave out. Beron had insisted that her corpse be on full display during that year’s annual Harvest festival.

Eris found it highly suspicious that his father suddenly decided to give his favor back to Lord Saxen and his _new_ wife. The High Lord was not known to be forgiving, but his motivations eluded Eris. 

"Send them an invitation along with an overdue wedding present," Beron commanded. The Lady of Autumn’s face lost all of its lovely color at the tone her husband used.

“Why bother with a gift?” Reed questioned. “He’ll likely be in the market for a _third_ wife by the end of the festivities. I suggest a bouquet of flowers since they’re appropriate for celebrations and _condolences_.”

“Sarcasm won’t earn you my crown,” Beron said with a wave of his hand in the direction of his flame-topped head.

 _No, it wouldn’t_ , Eris thought. Nothing less than a full-family massacre would leave the crown to Reed. Eris knew his witty brother might look the part of a fierce warrior, but he had always been more interested in gambling dens and females.

“But father, I’m sure I’d be able to win your people over with my sense of humor and good looks,” Reed said with a grin plastered on his face.

“More like you’d have to wager for their support over a deck of cards and hope the odds were in your favor,” Cormac added in a bored tone.

As the middle son, born fourth out of seven, Cormac was often forgotten about and Eris knew he preferred it that way. He usually stayed on the sidelines during these spats, likely wanting to preserve his pretty face. He wouldn’t shed any tears if Beron suddenly dropped dead since it would put him closer to being able to escape these lands.

Kane couldn’t miss out on the chance to add his own insult. “You wouldn’t need to _gamble_ for support if you actually possessed enough power to make people fear you,” he said in his most condescending tone.

Eris knew he should jump in before it became an all-out brawl, but this was the most entertainment he’d had all day. He began regretting that decision as soon as he saw the embers flare in Reed’s brown eyes.

"And you think you do?” Reed chuckled as he took a sip from his wineglass and pointed to where Eris sat. “Eris could obliterate you without breaking a sweat. It’s _his_ power they fear and it’s _him_ they will throw their support behind when the time comes.”

Eris took the momentary silence that followed as his cue to set them all straight. “Reed, as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, don’t think I won’t reach across this table and rip your tongue out if you continue to upset mother with your harsh words.” Reed instantly deflated in shame.

It wasn’t lost on Eris that their mother’s face had filled with sorrow at their bickering. She still mourned her two sons killed by Lucien and Tamlin and despised the constant fighting between her remaining children.

Contrarily, Beron got a disturbing amount of amusement from pitting his sons against each other. He preached that it was an _Autumn Court tradition_. Long ago, he had been a rival to his own siblings and enjoyed it. _The winner usually does enjoy the game_ , Eris thought bitterly. The gold crown sitting on Beron’s head not only proclaimed him the High Lord, but also served as reminder of the atrocities he committed to secure its current placement.

The only bedtime story Eris could remember his father ever telling was the story of how he became the undisputed heir. In his youth, Beron murdered his only two brothers and several male cousins in an attempt to ensure that the ancient Autumn Court magic would have little choice when it came to the transfer of power. He hadn’t bothered to kill his only sister, thinking she wasn’t a threat due to her gender. Instead, he ignored her existence until he found a use for her. After Eris had been born, Beron wound up selling her off in a political marriage to one of Helion’s cousins in exchange for a couple spellbooks from the coveted Dawn Court collection.

Rather than let that bedtime story fade into history where it belonged, Beron had begun whispering in Eris’ ear about the threats a sibling posed the moment he found out he’d gotten his wife pregnant for the second time. Any chance for brotherly love was doomed from the start.

The warm air around the table had become stale and no one attempted to start any more conversations for the duration of the meal.

As they all filed out of the dining room in silence, Eris wondered - not for the first time, what it would be like to have a dinner with an _actual_ family.


	6. Party Crasher

**ASTRA**

The weeks leading up to Starfall brought milder temperatures to Velaris. Winter coats had been packed away and the streets were full of faeries enjoying the thaw. Anticipation for the yearly celebration, now only two days away, could practically be felt in the air.

Astra and Mor were basking in the sun at an outdoor restaurant next to the Sidra. Astra’s afternoon training sessions had been called off this week due to Amren visiting Varian in the Summer Court.

They had just finished eating lunch when Astra asked, “Are you bringing anybody special to Starfall this year?”

Mor’s gaze shifted to the river as she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh you know me, I’ll go alone and see where the night takes me.”

 _Probably straight to Rita’s_ , Astra thought.

It was no longer a secret among the Inner Circle that Mor preferred females, though Astra had never seen her actually hit it off with anyone - male or female. While she still spent a ton of time dancing, drinking, and flirting, there was a certain _hollowness_ to her. She was the only one besides Astra and Nyx that wasn’t married, mated, or in a stable relationship. She put on an excellent act that it didn’t bother her, but Astra wasn’t convinced.

“What about you?” Mor questioned with a smirk. “Should I plan on keeping my dear cousin occupied so you can slip away with some dashing young male? I thought I provided a delightful distraction last year, but I bet I can outdo myself.”

Astra rolled her eyes at the reminder. “I invited the females in my training unit to go, but I doubt I’ll be taking them home with me.”

A smile played on Mor’s red lips at the joke and thankfully the owner arrived with the bill so they could let the topic drop.

Astra broke down earlier in the week and invited Alette and Pix to the party at the House of Wind. If she showed up with them in tow, perhaps her mother would stop trying to make friends for her. The last thing Astra wanted was to be surrounded by aspiring artists that took classes from her mother. She possessed no artistic talent and despised portraits of herself.

After they finished eating, they began making their way past the crowded shops to pick up their new gowns. Mor had _insisted_ on having custom dresses created months ago and was bubbling with excitement since the dresses were finally ready. Astra was the only family member that enjoyed fashion enough to appease her and she’d given Mor free reign on the design.

The little seamstress boutique was situated in an alley off the main drag of the artists’ quarter. It didn’t look like much from the outside. The exterior paint had likely been as bright as other shops in the Rainbow, but now the blue color was faded and chipping in places.

Astra eyed the building with doubt.

“Don’t worry,” Mor reassured as she swung open the door. "It’s a bit rough out the outside, but the the quality is best you’ll find in the city unless you pilfer through the collection Rhys’ mother made."

When they entered the shop, Astra saw that owner already had the dresses hanging on a rack in protective covers near the front of the shop.

Mor didn’t even bother greeting the female behind the counter before she ran over and peeled apart the cloth to peek at her dress. A high-pitched squeal of approval rang throughout the shop.

Curiosity led Astra to the other dress. She took a deep breath before sliding her small hand beneath the outer cover to reveal the finished product.

" _It’s magnificent_." She breathed.

Mor had been right about the quality, she thought as she pinched the tulle fabric of the skirt between her fingers.

“Lara, you’ve totally outdone yourself!” exclaimed Mor.

Mor snuck up behind her to get a better look. As her brown eyes roamed over the neckline she added with a chuckle, "Rhys is never going to allow me buy you clothing again."

The deep sapphire color reminded Astra of the ocean. It brought a small smile to her lips.

“Do you think Tarquin will like this dress?” she probed.

Mor’s eyebrows rose and she let out a laugh. “I thought you grew out of that infatuation ages ago.”

_Astra hadn’t._

The laughter stopped once Mor noticed Astra hadn’t echoed in the sentiment. “ _Oh sweetie_ , I’m pretty sure he still sees you as the dragon-obsessed child that crashed Kallias’ Solstice Ball."

Her soothing tone wasn’t enough to keep Astra’s cheeks from reddening at the embarrassing memory. She couldn’t help but relive the whole experience at the reminder.

_When Astra was five, Kallias opened up their borders for one night of their week-long Winter Solstice celebration at the insistence of his wife. It was the first time any outsiders were sent invitations and her family was thrilled to attend. Mor had chatted non-stop about how grand the ball was going to be and told Astra about the beautiful, icy decor that was sure to decorate the palace._

_It wasn’t until the evening of the ball that Astra realized she wouldn’t be attending. As soon as she noticed her family was all dressed up while she was still in her play clothes, it dawned on her that they had never actually said she was going too._

_Her mother was in a light-blue gown that shimmered as if it was covered in icicles. Her father and brother were in matching black formal tunics. Gwyn looked stunning in a silky, silver gown and Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her Uncle Cassian had even tied his hair back for the occasion and her Aunt Nesta looked devastating in a borrowed red dress from Mor._

_Upon seeing them, Astra began crying and raced to where they were gathered in the living room. She only got out a few words between her sobs. “Wait, I don’t have a pretty dress on! Don’t leave without me.”_

_Just as she was turning to race up the stairs to change, her father scooped her up into his arms while most of the others in the room scurried out to avoid her meltdown._

_Her father wiped away her tears with his thumbs and said, “Don’t cry, my little star. You wouldn’t even have fun. There isn’t going to be anyone your age to play with - onlyboring grown-up faeries.”_

_“I don’t need anyone to entertain me,” she wined. “I’ll find a polar bear to play with me instead. Mor told me how fluffy they are.”_

_Nyx, the only one still in the besides them, laughed at her and said, “The Winter Court polar bears are more likely to eat you than play with you.”_

_Her father gave Nyx a sharp look before adding, “Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien are coming to watch over you. I bet you can get Uncle Lucien to make real fire come out of your dragon’s mouth if you ask nicely.”_

_That possibility had momentarily quieted Astra. Her stuffed dragon, Landon, would be very ferocious if actual fire shot out his mouth. Her father must have picked up on her train of thought. He used a tendril of magic to levitate the purple toy off the couch, making its wings flap so it flew right into her arms._

_Lucien and Elain walked through front door as her father set her back down. Her mother waltzed back in and announced that they were going to be late if they didn’t leave to meet everyone else. Both her parents placed kisses on her head and told her to be on her best behavior or else she wouldn’t get any Solstice presents when they celebrated together later in the week._

_Elain tucked her into bed after Lucien spent at least an hour playing with her and Landon - he had indeed made fire blast from the toy’s mouth without burning the crushed velvet exterior fabric._

_Sleep did not find Astra. Instead, she laid in bed and imagined herself running in the snow alongside a massive polar bear until she was again crying about being left at home. Her tears stopped when she remembered travel magic, which Amren had told her about during their daily sessions._

_Astra squeezed the dragon to her chest tightly and tried to tap into the power she was sometimes able to use. Once she felt it within her, she closed her eyes and concentrated on leaving. She threw her magic out and aimed for her father’s location. Her magic latched on to a thread of sorts and she felt herself fold into wind and light. A whooshing feeling overflowed her senses until she materialized and bounced off of something and softly landed in a blanket of snow._

_The powdered snow came up to her bare knees when she stood. She regretted not changing out of her black nightgown before trying to use her magic. She grabbed Landon - they were both soaking wet, and began walking toward the brightly lit castle ahead. She only made it a few steps over the drawbridge before a large male appeared in front of her._

_He lowered his pale, pointed chin to look down at her with blue eyes and asked, "Who are you? You were repelled by the wards surrounding the castle, so I assume you weren’t invited. The High Lord will want to know that someone tried to infiltrate his ball.”_

_Astra was too busy eyeing his warm-looking uniform to realize that he wasn’t referring to her father, but instead a different High Lord. Her teeth were chattering and all she could think about was getting warm._

_The guard grabbed arm and begun leading her closer to the entrance. The silence was unnerving so she asked him, “Do you think a dragon or a polar bear would win in a fight?”_

_The guard scoffed at her question while eyeing the toy in her hand. His face turned even colder as he said, “Dragons aren’t real. They are simply a bedtime story parents tell their children.” It was the wrong thing to say to dragon-obsessed child._

_Astra started smacking the guard in the stomach with Landon - the best she could do without the aid of Lucien’s fire._

_An amused voice cut her off. “What is going on here?”_

_The voice belonged to a tall, dark skinned male, whose long hair was as white as the surrounding snow. He was dressed in a sea-green coat and smelled faintly like the ocean._

_The guard replied to the male, “This little brat showed up unannounced and won’t stop swatting me with her toy. It’s nothing you need to worry about though. You are welcome to join all the other guests inside where it’s warm.”_

_The other male replied with an air of authority to his voice, “Hmmmm. I think I’ll escort her inside myself. She has the most peculiar shade of violet eyes, don’t you think?They remind me a certain dark High Lord.”_

_Astra figured his comment must have meant something because the guard’s eyes widened in shock before he let go of her arm and disappeared into the chilly air._

_The remaining male began leading her toward the large entry archway and said, “I’m Tarquin. What’s your name?”_

_“Astra,” she replied shyly, suddenly intimidated by him._

_“Why were you hitting that guard with your toy, Astra?”_

_“He said dragons weren’t real. That they were just made up by my parents.”_

_Tarquin chuckled as he responded, “Well, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I have it on good authority that there’s a sea dragon lurking in the ocean between Prynthian and Hybern.”_

_“Woah.....I’ve never heard of a Sea Dragon,” she replied in astonishment._

_Astra felt like an ice cube by the time they reached the entryway. Tarquin glanced down at the cold water dripping off her nightgown and removed it with a flick of his wrist and a small smile._

_All the faeries seemed to be headed in the same direction so Tarquin placed her small hand in his and led her through the large hallway that was lined with fireplaces to keep away the chill. The sound of music was drifting closer, but the tune was interrupted by the sneering voice of one of the males loitering by one of the fires._

_“She looks a bit young for you, Tarquin.”_

_Tarquin didn’t stop walking but threw a retort over his muscled shoulder as they passed by. “I wasn’t aware Kallias invited ill-mannered courtiers to his party.”_

_There wasn’t a verbal response so Astra twisted around toward the male. He had already turned back to the fire but she stuck her tongue out in the direction of his long, red hair for good measure._

_When they made it to the festively decorated ballroom Astra was entranced by the ornate decor sculled from ice. Astra’s swept her eyes over the crowd until she spied her parents mingling with a pale, beautiful couple. Her mother dropped the glass goblet in her hand and appeared in front of Astra before the glass finished shattering._

_“Feyre, how good to see you. I believe found something of yours outside in the snow,” teased Tarquin._

_Astra was crushed to her mother’s chest in a hug as she inquired, “What happened? How did you get here? Are you hurt?”_

_Her father appeared next to Tarquin in time to hear her reply. “I wanted to come to the party too and race the polar bears so I used my magic to poof from bed.”_

_“Poof?” Her father questioned while place his hands in his pockets to appear calm. “Is that what Amren’s been teaching you. That’s very dangerous magic. You could have wound up anywhere or lost in-between somewhere.”_

_“I’ve never heard of a child being able to winnow at such a young age.” Tarquin said as his eyes flicked between Astra’s parents. “I should have guessed you two would make exceptionally gifted children.”_

_The rest of the conversation was lost on Astra once her eyes found the table full of sweets. She looked up to Tarquin and sweetly said, “Thanks for drying me off. Perhaps you can introduce me to your sea dragon friend sometime?” She darted off to the food before he could even reply._

_She didn’t get to stay long. After she accepted several cookies from Viviane, her mother winnowed her back to a frantic Elain and Lucien and tucked her back into bed._

Ever since that encounter, Astra had nurtured a crush on the High Lord of Summer and wanted desperately to find that sea dragon he mentioned - actually she’d prefer if he showed her personally.

Mor must have picked up on how lost thought Astra had been, but she didn’t mention it. She simply continued the conversation where they left off while snapping her fingers to send the dresses directly to their closets. “Unfortunately, Tarquin isn’t coming to Starfall this year. He mentioned some internal conflict when he sent his regrets.”

Disappointment flared within Astra. Tarquin hadn’t attended last year either and before that, she had been to young to catch his eye.

“Don’t worry, Viviane told me she was bringing Fannar along again this year,” Mor said with a wink. “You two really hit it off last year.”

 _Yes, they had_ , Astra thought as they left the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starfall coming next


	7. Whispered Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is not really my forte, but I was feeling inspired so I drew my vision for Astra’s Starfall dress

**  
  
ASTRA**

Astra barely recognized her reflection in the mirror. Cerridwen and Nuala, the half-wraith twins, had spent a better part of the afternoon taming the golden-brown waves of her hair and painting cosmetics on her face. They had done an excellent job. The angles of her cheekbones looked sharper than a knife and the shadow lining her eyes brought out their vibrant, violet hue.

When they helped her into her dress, neither blushed when they saw the silhouette. Actually, Astra wasn’t sure they even could blush since they were mostly made of shadow and smoke.

The top half of the deep, sapphire dress was fitted at the top and flowed out at her waist. The long sleeves would keep away the lingering evening chill, but they weren’t enough to make the dress seem modest. The high slit in the tulle skirt gave the impression of long legs, but the true masterpiece was the neckline. Cut low, nearly down to her naval, it was sure to turn heads.

The edges of the seam were adorned with diamonds, made to look like twinkling stars. Mor and Astra had raided a chest of unused jewels in the River House’s storage area to get the gemstones for her dress. They hit the jackpot when they found a massive diamond that Lara set at bottom of the v-shaped opening. It was going to be difficult to tell if guests were staring at the jewels or the generous amount of cleavage on display. Though her breasts were on the smaller side, the bodice was tight enough to give them shape.

A pounding knock on her bedroom door pulled Astra’s focus from the mirror. Alette didn’t bother waiting for permission before swinging the door open and striding in with Pix at her heels.

Alette’s green eyes quickly roamed over Astra and she said, “Hmmm. It’s unclear if the focal point is supposed to be your tits or those diamonds.”

Astra wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult but she knew the best way to deal with Alette was to not fold.

“Are you trying to match Helion with your dress? I hear he has a wing fetish,” Astra shot back. It was true - Alette was dressed in a flowing, white chiffon gown that cinched at the waist with a gold belt. Sleeveless and open-backed to accommodate her wings, it was very reminiscent of the Lord of Day’s usual attire.

They stared each other down for a second after Astra’s comment while Pix looked on. A smile formed on Alette’s bright red lips, breaking the tension. Giggles from all three followed.

Pix was in a dazzling shade of orange that offset her dark skin well. The cut was simplistic - long sleeves that belled-out at the ends and coverage up to the neck. Her black curls were as unruly as ever, though it looked as if she might have used an oil to make the ringlets shine.

"I’ll winnow us all above the House. Alette can fly down the rest of the way and we will have to drop in," Astra said with a nod to Pix.

Both her hands shot out to grab their wrists before either could confirm the plan. She winnowed them all into the cool night sky above the main balcony.

Seconds after they roughly hit the balcony Pix grumbled, “I might have worn pants had I known we were arriving like that.”

Alette glided in gracefully, landing in an elegant crouch near the glass doors. “Pix,” she tutted. “It’s not her fault that your dress makes you as uncoordinated as a child.”

Astra ignored them both, and shoved her small body between them to get to the doors and make her entrance.

The main room and all the rooms beyond were dimly lit by faelight and tables of delectable appetizers and fizzing drinks lined the walls.

The first thing Astra noticed was the relaxed atmosphere. They had beat the High Lord and High Lady to the party. _Good_. Astra thought. _She had time for a drink or two before being on display and making small talk with their guests._

Nyx must of had a similar thought because Astra spotted him at the far end of the room, already sipping on sparkling wine. He had branched out from Ilyrian leathers for the night and was wearing a familiar navy tunic with silver detailing.

Astra plucked a glass off the nearest table for herself and used her Daemati abilities to send a playful flick at his mental shield, causing it to drop. _Did you steal that old jacket from father’s closet? I can practically see the dust from here._

A wing twitched at the jab before he cocked his head in her direction.

His arrogant voice flowed back into her mind as he made his way to where she was standing with Alette and Pix. _Looking through his wardrobe seems better than raiding his coffers for those diamonds._

Astra supposed he had a point.

“Little sister, how nice to see you.” Nyx drawled once he was within earshot. “Did you wear that dress just to ruin all my fun? How am I supposed effectively work my charm if I have spend the whole evening poking through every male’s head to make sure there are no dishonorable thoughts about you?”

The dark gleam in his eyes made it difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

Astra aired on the safe side with a jesting retort. “Mind your own business, you big bat.”

His chuckle was followed by, “You better watch out for Amren tonight. Varian is going to have to hold her down so she can’t pluck those jewels off you and add them to her collection.”

Nyx gave a slight nod to Alette and Pix, his eyes lingering for a second on the former’s wings, and then strode off into the growing crowd. He clearly didn’t want to waste another moment with his sister - time that could be spent in the company of available females.

“Your brother is so dreamy,” sighed Alette. “Too bad he spends nearly all his time away from Velaris.”

Astra was no stranger to faeries pining after her brother but it was better not to get Alette’s hopes up so she said, “I think you’d be a unique addition to the long string of females he’s been with, given the white wings."

A scowl was the only response she received before her companions slipped away in search of food.

Excited murmurs echoed among the gathered Fae, signaling the arrival of the hosts. The High Lord and High Lady waltzed in with the rest of the Inner Circle and their special _guests._

Their guests included Helion Spell-Cleaver, who was a long-time friend of Astra’s father. As usual, the High Lord of Day was a sight to behold in white and gold with his dark, muscled chest on display.

They were also joined by the three highest ranking members of the Winter Court. Kallias, Viviane, and Fannar - their only son and heir, were all dressed in royal-blue velvet formalwear that was lined with white fur.

Astra’s family hadn’t noticed her yet but Fannar’s crushing blue eyes met hers, causing warmth to creep to her cheeks. If he took note, he didn’t let it show on his pale, nearly translucent face. Luckily, he’d inherited some of Viviane’s warmth, otherwise he’d be as cold and calculating as the High Lord of Winter.

Their stare was broken by Nyx, who clasped Fannar on the shoulder and shoved a drink into his hand. They were only a few months apart in age and had grown up attending various functions together.

Astra had met the Winter heir at last year’s Starfall celebration and they’d hit it off after several drinks had given her the courage to ask him to dance. His icy demeanor intrigued Astra - it was so different from the warmth of her own family. After a timely distraction by Mor - in the form of spilling her drink all over the tailored pants of the High Lord of Night - Astra had snuck him away to an empty bed in an attempt to see how deep the ice in his veins ran.

The experience had been full of _pleasure_ , but the _chill_ of his touch had been hard to get used to.

She was jolted back to awareness by Helion’s dark laugh beside her, “Did you know it’s rude to outshine the Lord of the Sun? I would have worn more finery had I known I was to compete with a treasure such as yourself.”

She had to strain her neck upward to get a better view of his amber eyes, alight with amusement.

“Don’t bother with flattery,” she mused. “We both know you are the most sought after person in this room, _so what do you want?"_

He didn’t miss a beat before replying, “You know, sweet Astra, the only people I’ve found to be impervious to my allure are faeries with mates.”

An _interesting_ observation but Astra knew that Helion didn’t share his wealth of knowledge without a reason and rarely without cost. Plus, it wasn’t an _outrageous_ notion that she might find a mate someday considering most of her family had. 

Rather than taking the bait on his favorite hook - _the I know something you might want to know_ _hook_ \- Astra changed the subject. “I don’t suppose you have any useful information to share - perhaps more advanced ward-severing techniques?”

A few years back, Helion had offered to teach Astra and Nyx about wards during one of his visits. Astra suspected he had done it in an attempt to impress Mor, who he found to be even more intriguing once he discovered she also enjoyed women in bed.

Astra had taken to the instruction well - it wasn’t clear if she had a natural affinity for the technique or if she’d inherited some of that kernel of magic gifted to her mother. Helion had quickly gotten more than he bargained for when she easily mastered simple wards and begged to be taught advanced warding and then moved on to her personal favorite - ward-severing.

There was something calming about detangling complex spell-work and shields. It was a less destructive use of her power and challenged her mind as well.

Nyx, on the other hand, still struggled with the more basic applications. He preferred tangible things he could break with his fists or slice with a sword and he rarely practiced magic in Illyria.

“I might be able to part with part with an old book on ancient wards if you introduce me to Mor’s lovely friend over there,” he said while tipping his drink toward the blonde.

Mor was currently in the middle of an animated conversation with Emerie in the far corner of the room, the latter looking upon her with awe and a bit of desire. 

Astra’s parents saved her from deciding if it was worth it or not to throw Helion on them.

“Astra, you look stunning,” her mother beamed. “That dress has Mor’s influence written all over it.”

“My cousin’s influence looks rather _questionable_.” her father snapped, no doubt taking note of the plunging neckline and leg slit.

 _“Don’t make a scene,”_ her mother hissed back.

Helion was having too much fun watching their interaction and added, “Oh please do, Rhysand. Watching Feyre kick your ass would be such a turn on.”

The High Lady’s face turned scarlet at his comment, but her mate saved her from replying. “Come on old friend, I’ll bring you to Mor so you can be by her when the fun starts.”

Astra saw her father whisper something into her mother’s ear as they all walked away. Her mother placed a hand on his shoulder to keep steering him in the direction of Mor and Emerie.

Just as Astra was about to go look for a more private balcony to watch the stars from, she felt a cool sensation along her chest and smelled a metallic tang. Looking down, she realized her father had used magic to add a piece of fabric to cover her chest. 

_Very crafty,_ she thought as she stormed off toward an upper level balcony that was sure to be empty.

Astra preferred to watch the stars alone. She felt connected to them somehow and didn’t want anyone around to disrupt the peace she felt while watching them make their yearly journey across the sky.

After making her way up a spiral staircase, she found a small balcony that she claimed for herself.

The night when she’d been bombarded with power as a child, there had been real stars - or what her parents had assumed were real shooting stars mixed in with the spirits, but Astra wasn’t so sure. She didn’t think stars could _speak_.

At every Starfall that she could remember, these spirits with the likeness of stars whispered to her as they flew by. Sometimes she could make out words or phrases, but it had never made much sense. She’d kept it to herself all these years, knowing it would unsettle her family and it there wasn’t much to share anyway.

After only a few moments of waiting, she saw movement overhead. The first star-spirt blazed in an arc over the city and cheers rang out below. More followed suit until the sky was lit-up with the migrating spirits.

A bright orb brushed past Astra’s nose, tickling softly. She had to fight the urge to sneeze, knowing she’d blow out stardust and ruin all the work Cerridwen and Nuala had put into her face.

Another star-spirt wizzed toward her face and splattered on her right ear. The warm, tingling feeling might have been pleasant if hadn’t been accompanied by a _voice_.

The words, barely above a whisper, spoken in a woman’s voice said, _Hello, Lady of Inferno. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do with the blessing bestowed upon you._

When the voice subsided, Astra furiously itched at her ear and tried to wipe out the glittering residue, leaving her caught off guard when another star-spirt collided with the center of her forehead.

Blackness filled her vision as she clung to the railing to keep from falling to the ground. Confusion and terror filled her mind, but both feelings were burned away by another voice - clearer and more insistent than the other.

_The thieves of the East will soon set their sights on this land full of treasures, bringingwar and devastation to your shores. The key to triumph lies beyond the City of Starlight and will not come without pain and sacrifice. The power that rages within you must be mastered and released before a new reign of peace can begin._

The words _burned_. Astra could feel that energy within her coming up - trying to fight that voice. Sweat began collecting on Astra’s hairline as she snuffed out her power in an attempt to maintain control.

Still breathing heavily, she open her eyes and unfurled her knuckles from the railing. She straightened to her pervious upright position as she strained to listen for anything amiss from the other revelers. _Nothing_ \- it must have just been spoken to her.

Her skin was still hot and she didn’t want to think of what she’d been told or why. The idea of war didn’t sit well and would damper her family’s festive mood.

She left those thoughts behind as she left the balcony and headed back down the stairs, deciding to wait until after tonight to tell the others of what occurred.

Grabbing another glass of green, sparking wine, she scanned the crowded room and spotted her target. She downed the drink in one large gulp and let out a small burst of her power, directing the energy to burn away the additional fabric her father had added. Satisfied that she no longer looked frazzled, she glided through the dancing faeries until she was beside Fannar.

She could feel a coolness radiating from him that soothed her too-warm body. Pale-blue eyes slid to her and a single white eyebrow raised in question. She knew what he was asking. Speaking it out loud would just draw unwanted attention.

A silent smirk was her only response before his pale hand found it’s way to her lower back and he led her out of the main area into an empty hallway. Cold lips met her neck, sending shivers along her body. She arched her neck to give him better access as she grasped his biceps for support. A finger tipped with ice trailed down the center of her exposed chest, leaving behind a path of melting liquid.

“Come on,”she whispered while grabbing his hand to lead him further down the hall. She found a door that led to a guest suite, swung it open, and impatiently pushed his lithe form inside. She hoped his ice would hold back the burning inside her - _freeze the horror of what might come_ \- even if just for the night.

“Please make sure we aren’t disturbed,” Astra quietly pleaded to Nesta’s enchanted House as she gently shut and locked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next: The High Lord of Autumn cordially invites you to his annual Nynsar party


	8. Beron Burns the Flowers

**ERIS**

Less than five minutes before he was supposed to arrive at the Nynsar party, Eris was impatiently waiting outside of his mother’s suite. He debated knocking on the door again, but his mother knew what time it was and certainly knew the consequences of being late.

Just as he was lifting his arm to gently knock again, the door swung open revealing the Lady of Autumn. The dark green dress and finery adorning her wrists wasn’t enough to hide the drawn features of her face. Her russet eyes were dull and even her red hair looked limp in the braided updo.

Eris didn’t have to guess what had caused her to look sickly. She had been spending too much time in her rooms. It was fairly normal among the upper class for wives to be given separate rooms from their husbands - a space to call their own and do with as they please. The High Lord of Autumn was far from a _typical_ husband.

The Lady of Autumn came from a family with strong fire magic. Beron wanted offspring gifted with fire from both sides. The problem was that his chosen wife wasn’t as weak as females he was used to dealing with so he had to come up with a way to keep her from slitting his throat while he slept. His solution turned out to be gifting her a custom-designed suite of rooms near his own chambers. His idea of customization included paneling the walls with beautifully carved wood - _ash wood_.

Though ash wood was extremely rare nowadays in Prythian, Beron and his father before had been hoarding whatever amounts they could get their hands on for over a thousand years. While it was well known that weapons made from the wood it could be deadly to Fae, it could also serve other purposes as well. When used to completely enclose a faerie, it slowed down their immortal healing powers without having to actually puncture skin.

Eris had no idea if his father had invented that use himself or learned about it the hard way from his father before. It was Beron’s way of ensuring his wife didn’t heal quickly whenever he left bruises where no one could see.

After the fiasco with Helion, Beron had gone off the deep end once he realized his wife might have enough motivation to actually kill him. He had somehow acquired a large stash of faebane, a chemical-compound that suppresses High Fae powers, and had the clever idea to upgrade his wife’s room. The wood walls were sanded and coated with stain that contained faebane, thus neutralizing _all magic_ within the suite of rooms.

To this day, Beron still thought it was his greatest invention. It was one of the reasons he had been so adamantly opposed to the faebane antidote developed by Thesan’s alchemist during the more recent war with Hybern. Beron burned the entire supply given to the Autumn Court once the war was won.

The Lady of Autumn took a deep breath as she moved beyond her doorway, relief crossing her features. Eris knew being within those walls felt like being slowly smothered. Nobody crossed the threshold besides his mother, unless the situation was dire.

A tiny bit of color flowed into her white cheeks, giving her the smallest hint of life. She reached up and smoothed out the fabric of Eris’ maroon tunic. “You look so handsome. Maybe you’ll find a lovely lady that catches your eye,” she said with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

“Mother don’t start,” he pleaded as he brushed her delicate hand away. “The only available females in attendance will be Beron supporters. No one else would dare show their face tonight.”

“Right then. Let’s go before we are late,” she huffed. Eris offered her his arm and winnowed them both to where the rest of their family was already waiting in a small hall that led to the party.

“Done primping yourselves? You two nearly made us late to our own party,” sneered Kane.

Eris wasn’t surprised by the comment. Kane was uninterested in presenting himself as anything but a warrior. It was a miracle he managed to change out of his leathers and put on a clean shirt.

“Last I checked, it is _my_ party and it doesn’t start until I allow it to,” growled Beron.

“Right you are, father. We would all be _grateful_ if you would permit us to enter so we can get a much needed drink,” implored Reed.

Eris internally cringed at Reed’s audacity. He wanted to make it through the night with no altercations. Beron was unimpressed by Reed’s tone and shot him a warning look.

Beron liked formality and deemed that there was to be no food, drinks, music, or dancing until he made his entrance. As High Lord with no equal, Beron entered first. Eris, as the heir, followed and escorted the Lady of Autumn. The rest of the brothers came after in order of age.

A servant bowed as Beron approached and scrambled to open the door leading outside. All eyes were on Eris and his family as they proudly made their way past the guests.

The oversized outdoor terrace was illuminated with orange orbs of faelight. A throne made of a mixture of gold and wood sat atop a dais that was centered in the far back of the terrace - a location where the High Lordhad an unobstructed view of his court. Several long tables lined the outer edges of the area with the center reserved for mingling or dancing. Freshly-cut red and orange flowers decorated the surfaces - symbolic of the Spring holiday.

Beyond the covered terrace lay a sprawling grassy area. Long tables and strategically placed bonfires were spread out to the edge of the forest.

The separation of the terrace and the larger grass area was a political statement. High ranking Lords and other nobleman that held the High Lord’s favor sat with the roof over their head. All other invited attendees had to spend the evening in the grass like savages.

The High Lord stopped the parade of his family once he got to the throne. He sat with lethal grace and didn’t bat an eye when a goblet filled with spiced wine appeared for him on the wide arm of the throne.

Raising his glass to the gathered crowd, he began his opening speech. “Another year, another Nynsar. And what do you all have to show for it? More wealth? _No_. More power? _Certainly not_. Our Northern neighbors still have the upper hand in almost everything and continue to spread their nonsense beliefs about giving lesser Fae rights and privileges that they have not earned and do not deserve. We must continue to honor our values, otherwise we will be overrun by the filth we are meant to rule.”

Eris had to fight to keep the mask of neutrality from leaving his face at his father’s words. Though he personally had no love for lesser faeries, he saw no reason to further alienate them - it only created more enemies.

Everyone was dead silent at their High Lord’s words. The temperature had skyrocketed from the heat pouring off Beron. To cap-off his speech he thundered, “The only way to prevent those beliefs from crossing the border into our home is to remain united under _my crown_ and stoke the embers of tradition.”

Every flower arrangement burst into flames at his emphasis on “my crown.” A large sip of his wine gave everyone permission to begin the celebration.

 _Shit_ , thought Eris. There was no way his father knew about his deal with the Night Court. Eris couldn’t imagine he would still be breathing if Beron was suspicious. Playing the part of a devoted son had never been easy, but Eris had been at it for so long that it was unlikely that he had taken a misstep. Rhysand was prickly on the outside, but he doubted the savior of Prythian had gone behind his back. Kier was another matter entirely but Eris had always assumed fear of the High Lord of Night would keep him in check.

Neither Eris or his brothers wanted to remain within their father’s strike range for a moment longer. Eris wondered if it might be time to bring them in the loop on overthrowing their father. He had always worked toward his goals separately from them, thinking they would all take it as an invitation to kill him as well. It would certainly be easier and safer to continue alone, but doubt was working its way into his plans.

Eris weaved through crowd of High Fae, many of them giving him nervous glances as he passed. He wasn’t well loved by anybody here but most had enough sense to fear him. He stopped his retreat before he crossed over to the grassy area filled with more guests. He took up a position leaning on one of the large, structural beams supporting the roof. It gave him a good view to watch the revelers while seeming indifferent.

Eris focused his gaze on his father. Beron still lounged on his throne with a new drink in his hand. The four members of his infamous Flame Guard stood behind him on the dais. Their presence and keen eyes were enough to make any courtier think twice about approaching. Hand-selected by Beron ages ago based on their skill sets, they were vicious and wouldn’t hesitate to kill every faerie in attendance - _even Beron’s own family._

Vonner, the shortest and least opposing of the four, was Beron’s most skilled interrogator and thrived on torture - both physical and physiological. Eris thought that even Rhysand’s spymaster might get queasy watching him work.

Malum and Crom were bulky twin brothers and highly skilled with fire magic. Together, their abilities overpowered all of Eris’ younger brothers.

Rhazien, the most terrifying member of the Guard, had a unique talent. His grandfather hailed from the Summer Court, giving him a small affinity over water, as well as fire from the other side of his family. His preferred method of fighting involved latching on to the the water running through a body and heating it with his flames - _boiling his targets from the inside._

The four of them were part of the reason why Eris had never felt confident in his chances of directly taking out Beron. He could walk away from a fight with one of them, but all four would be a death sentence. Beron paid them well and gave them free reign to do whatever they pleased in the Autumn Court as long as his business and safety remained their top priority. He rarely brought them to functions outside his own borders since they don’t play well with others.

Eris shifted his gaze away from the Flame Guard before they noticed. He took stock of the crowd and eyed them all with distaste. Beron used this outdated holiday as an excuse to display his power and assert influence over his citizens. What never ceased to amaze Eris was that those privileged citizens enjoyed it. Sure, they feared their High Lord and despised his high taxes, but ultimately they benefited from his reign. As noblemen, they got to continue to sit at the top of the social standing and amass wealth and comfort while the majority of Fae in the Autumn Court were poor and overworked.

At one time, Nynsar had been held to celebrate the end of seeding the fields - an opening of sorts for the upcoming farming season. Commoners would bring seeds to the festival to be blessed by the High Lord, believing that he would ensure a successful harvest. Now, it was just a gossip event.

Eris couldn’t stop himself from wondering how the leaders of the other Seasonal Courts were celebrating. Tarquin would likely spend the evening informally with his entourage on a party barge. Eris doubted that Tamlin could manage to host any kind of event that he wasn’t forced to. His social skills were lacking and his courtiers would get together for Calamai soon anyways. Kallias couldn’t even grow flowers or crops in his tundra, so there really was no point in observing the holiday.

Eris wrangled his self control before he let himself _once again_ ponder the Starfall event currently taking place.

Just as he was reaching for a glass of wine off a nearby table, he spied Reed crossing the threshold of the terrace to join the minor nobility. His younger brother was a fool. Beron or a member of the Flame Gaurd would surely see him mingling with faeries below his station. Spending time in the dungeons beneath the Forest House would likely be the punishment. Possibly worth it if it served a purpose, but knowing Reed, he probably just wanted to get a few rounds of cards in. If Beron was distracted at some point, Eris knew that Reed would purposely lose - it was his own way of _donating_ money to those that may need it more than him.

Rather than interfere and also face the consequences, Eris decided to pretend as if he hadn’t seen Reed pass by at all. _Every brother for himself._

His solitude was interrupted by the haughty voices of his father’s three favorite supporters. The _Tainted Triad_ as Eris liked to call them, held the majority of the wealth in the Autumn Court aside from Beron. They were _old_ \- one of the three was old enough to have been around to support Beron’s father. They were tainted by the power and influence they held and clung to it with their immortal strength. Eris suspected that they were going to be a problem if and when he took over as High Lord. They didn’t trust him - _and rightfully so_. Eris would wipe the floor with their blood if he thought he could get away with it.

Subtly leaning toward where the three Lords chatted, he was able to make out a bit of their conversation. They wanted to suggest to Beron that more guards be sent to the Autumn Court’s Eastern border that lay on the ocean.

Eris hadn’t heard anything about trouble on the seas or even further on the Continent, but it he wouldn’t be surprised by it. _Actually_ , he hadn’t even heard a peep from those far away Fae territories recently, which was a bit usual. He made a mental note to send spies to check on the situation. Perhaps he’d formally send Cormac on a visit since his brother wanted nothing more than to be free from the politics of the Autumn Court.

Out of the corner of his gold eye, Eris noticed that he wasn’t the only one eavesdropping. Lord Saxen, accompanied by his new wife, was standing off to the side of the dancing area trying appear as if his concentration wasn’t on the Triad.

Eris pushed off the beam he’d been leaning on and made his way over to the pair.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you Lord Saxen,” Eris drawled. A veiled comment trying to see if he’d take the bait.

Eris didn’t miss the subtle step the blonde male took to block the path to his wife. Eris couldn’t help but allow a predatory smile to creep onto his face at the protective display.

Evidently, the farmer-turned-Lord still had a bit of backbone for his reply had a hint of defiance. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? I figured the next time I’d be forced to attend one of these parties, it would be _your_ signature on the invitation.”

Taking a step closer to him to not be overheard, Eris whispered, “Oh, how I’ve missed your boldness. As I recall, that same boldness is what led this lovely female behind you to get the title of Lady Saxen. You would both do well to remember that the wind and fallen leaves in this land report back to the current High Lord.”

Lord Saxen angled his head to look up at the heir towering over him but whatever reply he gave, Eris completely missed. A burning sensation erupted in his chest, along with a sense of dread. His skin was tingling and he had the vague sense that fire might spontaneously burst from his palms if he didn’t get himself under control.

Lord Saxon’s wife brought him back to reality by asking, “Are you alright? You look unwell all of the sudden.”

Just as quickly as the feeling had come, it vanished and his heartbeat regained its normal pace. “I’m fine,” he ground out before abruptly walking away from the pair.

Still feeling off kilter, he grabbed another drink, vowing to forget about it for the time being.

Eris spent the rest of the night bouncing from one strained conversation to the next and drank enough spiced wine to overpower the _cold_ feeling that kept prickling over his skin.


	9. Best-Laid Plans

**ASTRA**

Presents were not normally exchanged for Starfall, but three days after that night, a gift was given to Astra. Well, not exactly _given_ , but she accepted it anyway.

She was in the library under the House of Wind combing through old books and documents for any insights on items of value in the East that might be stolen. After spending several hours each evening at a table between the dusty stacks, she was still no closer to knowing what the star-spirit had meant.

As far as she could tell, there wasn’t much of anything that would be considered highly valuable in the Eastern Fae territories. There were artifacts and myths, but nothing screamed world-ending or war-starting to Astra. After all, Prythian had the Cauldron originally and the once-scattered Dread Trove.

It was a common assumption that their Eastern neighbors weren’t as strong or stable as the Courts in Prythian. United together, they would be a force to be reckoned with, but Montesere,Vallahan, and Rask had been squabbling for thousands of years and rarely shared a common goal. Even magic seemed to be less powerful there.

Astra had debated enlisting Gwyn to help with her research, but that would raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer. It wasn’t that she was never going to bring her family into the loop, but she wanted to present them with more than just a vague potential problem. Bringing answers or even a solution would help prove she was _mature_ enough to handle whatever doom was being thrown her way.

Instead of coming clean to Gwyn on day two of being held up in the library when the bright-eyed priestess asked, she lied. _Dragons_ , she had said. It was believable. Astra had never completely outgrown the dragon-obsessed phase. There was no _hard evidence_ anywhere in the library that they existed, but there were plenty of myths that she enjoyed combing through. Gwyn hadn’t seemed surprised at all by her request for documentation on the subject and she hadn’t been around to notice Astra running at top speed through the stacks to snag any relevant documentation on the East.

Astra was sitting in a secluded section on one of the lower levels of the library within the mountain when her _gift_ was presented to her. It came in the form of a soft tap on her mental shield. She knew instantly from the feel that it was her mother and let her in.

_I hope your research is going well. I hate to interrupt, but can you come back home?_

Since Astra was nowhere near a breakthrough, she didn’t put up a fight.

 _Sure_ , was her only response before she grabbed the papers scattered on the table and ran out to the ground level so she could winnow to her room and hide the evidence of her research. She must have looked like no more than a blur to any nearby priestesses.

Astra was back to normal speed after stashing the documents beneath a false drawer bottom she created in her bathroom vanity. It wasn’t the most creative hiding spot, but her parents tended to stay out of her room and the attached bathroom suite.

She found her parents lounging in the large, informal living room. She took up her usual position closest to the fireplace since she normally avoided the cold when she was in control of her magic. 

While most faeries seemed to live by the philosophy that it was better to get the last word in, Astra was of the opinion that it was _best_ to get the first and last words in so she began by saying, “I’ve been summoned. What’s the occasion?”

“Don’t be dramatic, your mother politely asked you to join us. She did not _summon_ ,” her father said.

Astra’s mother wasn’t even remotely fazed by their bickering. She just laughed it off with a happy chuckle. “I wonder where she gets those dramatics from, _Rhys_?”

When Astra shifted her gaze to her father she saw that he was plucking the nonexistent fuzz off his jacket. “ _Feyre darling_ ,” he purred. “Are you accusing me of teaching our daughter how to be dramatic? Most would think it unwise to test the patience of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. Besides, she obviously learned it from Cassian.”

Astra didn’t like where this was going so she interrupted before they had to retreat to their rooms for privacy. “Would it kill you two to refrain from flirting while I’m around. Everyone is already aware you are madly in love mates.”

“Astra, I’m sure you’ll find somebody you love just as much someday," her mother chided.

“Someday a _long time_ from now," her father added. "Preferably, after your dear old father is dead.”

She couldn’t stop her eye roll at his comment.

“Rhys,” her mother hissed. “That is not the purpose of this conversation. Astra, we just wanted to let you know that we are leaving tomorrow for a little getaway. Drakon and Miryam invited us to the annual flying race held in Nephelle’s honor. I’ve still never been to Cretea so we thought we’d take a little time away and enjoy the island."

Astra knew her parent’s deserved this break. They worked day after day to support their people and make the Night Court their Court of Dreams.

Not only would it be relaxing for them, it was a gift to her. Time to do whatever she pleased without their prying eyes. Time to figure out what to do about the warning given to her. If she told them about the voice now, they’d never leave. They would work tirelessly to ensure no harm came to their people. When they returned, she would tell them.

“We are leaving in the morning and will return in a week. Your Uncle Cassian and Aunt Nesta have decided to join us, but Azriel and Gwyn will be around so please _behave_.”

A plan was already forming in her mind. A smile formed on her lips as she said,“That’s a great idea. Drakon and Miryam have been begging you to visit for ages. Don’t worry, I’ll be on my _best behavior._ ”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Astra’s best behavior just happened to usually involve rash decisions.

\- - -

Astra had laid awake in bed for hours overnight to formulate her plan. She jumped out of bed in the early hours of the morning to take a quick bath and send a note to Pix saying she wouldn’t be at training that day. She knew it wouldn’t matter much since Nesta would be in Cretea and Alette was going with her family as well.

While drying her hair off with a towel, she threw out her mind to the rest of the house to see if anyone was there. She was in luck. Her parents were already gone and Azriel appeared to be in the kitchen.

Astra put on a set of Illyrian leathers. This particular set was a favorite. Emerie had them custom designed so the arms and legs appeared to be scaled like a dragon. Small stars were etched into the area covering her collarbones.

She winnowed directly into the kitchen, but as usual, Azriel wasn’t startled.

“It’s going to be a bit warm for those leathers today,” Azriel said in his quiet voice. Shadows were coiling around his ears already.

“Are your shadows confirming the weather forecast for you or are they telling you something more useful?” she shot back.

A small smile played on his lips at her question. “They only annoy you because they tell me when you are doing something you shouldn’t be.”

He wasn’t wrong. Astra suspected those shadows were the reason she rarely got away with anything. They were going to be a problem today and she would have to get rid of them. It was something she rarely did because that generally raised Azriel’s suspicions, but she’d have to take the risk.

“They are tattletales and ruin all my fun,” she whined before biting into an apple. “Go ahead and tell them I don’t need the weather for Velaris. I’ve decided to pay Nyx a visit in Illyria. I might even do a bit of training with his legion today since I’ll miss out on Valkyrie training and Amren went back to Summer.”

The smile on Azriel’s lips immediately flipped to a frown at her words. Astra knew he hated Illyria and would not voluntarily join her.

Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “You expect me to believe that you picked today, a day when you parents are far away, to visit your brother to train when I was under the impression you thought that entire village was made up of immature bats? Oh wait, not the _entire_ village, right? There is that one male you fancy.”

“And that right there is why I don’t like your shadows. It’s an invasion of my privacy!” she yelled back.

“I’m less concerned with privacy and more with safety. Sneaking off in the woods with a much older Illyrian male is unsafe. They might tolerate your brother up there but they have little love for your father. Anything could have happened to you and Rhys wouldn’t hesitate to start a civil war over it.”

Astra knew he was coming from a place of love but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I am old enough to make my own choices and I’ll deal with the consequences myself. I wasn’t asking permission to go today, just informing you as a courtesy.”

It was harsh, but Astra knew Azriel wouldn’t push further. He would give her the illusion of freedom and not stop her from going, but his shadows would be keeping a close watch.

He gave her a slight nod of approval which she took as invitation to winnow out of the kitchen directly to Windhaven.

\- - -

The cold wind slammed into Astra the moment she materialized at the village. The long braid she’d plaited her hair in was whipping furiously along her back. Her boots crunched in the last remnants of snow that hadn’t yet melted as she made her way to the training rings. Females tending to pots around the fires stared at her while she passed but their gazes weren’t cruel. Merely curious.

Astra would have preferred to spend the day with Emerie in her shop here, but she had gone to visit the Winter Court with Mor.

Astra spotted Nyx in the nearest ring with a group of males. He appeared to be engaged in a training session on combat with swords.

His movements were precise and backed by his immense strength. It wasn’t just that he was clearly lethal with a blade. It was that he _enjoyed_ it. Anyone could see that this was his passion. Fighting with Illyrian steel invigorated him. Though he’d never been in battle before, Astra knew he’d slice through enemies with ease. He’d made it to the top of Ramiel when he’d participated in the Blood Right and settled several scores in the process. That had gained him the respect of the Illyrians and he was given an aerial legion to train by Devlon a few years back.

The problem with gaining respect was what he sacrificed to get it. His status as the heir to the Night Court and all the powers that come with it had originally made him an outcast. These warriors were not impressed by the massive amount of dark power he could wield. They feared it, but fear and respect were very different.

Nyx’s solution was to avoid using his magic altogether. Their father had trained him how to safely wield it when he was young but he had yet to go further with that training. He wasn’t a safety risk like Astra, so their father had given him space to forge his own path for the time being. Though Nyx would never admit it, Astra also suspected that her brother also didn’t like being reminded that someday he would take their parents’ place and rule with that power.

Nyx spotted her approach and ceased his movements. She snatched a sword off the weapons rack on her way to where he now stood with his group. The males behind him were staring. Their expressions ranged from shock, suspicion, and even lust.

“ _Little sister_ ,” Nyx said a little to loudly - a reminder of who she was to him and what he would do to anyone that touched her without permission. “Have you come to whip my novices into shape?”

A few wings from the males behind him flared at his question. Though it wasn’t the actual purpose of her visit, it was part of the plan.

“ _Indeed_ ,” was her only response before she lifted her sword and began training with them.

\- - -

It was well into the evening when she put the next step of her plan into motion. Nyx and her were sitting on the sofa by the lit hearth in the house that had belonged to their grandmother long ago. Astra had gotten out the ale over an hour ago. It was cheap and tasted like piss, but it did the job after a long day of training in the cold.

Astra had only drank two mugs, but Nyx was already on his fourth. It was the perfect time to get the information she needed and flattery usually did the trick.

“Your novices are well disciplined,” she began. “How did you manage to get them to behave so well? Did you threaten to send them to the old witch North of here?”

Nyx’s booming laugh nearly shook the foundation of the old house. “No, I didn’t but that is a fantastic idea. I’d have them licking my boots if they thought I’d throw them on her doorstep if they didn’t.”

And that was all she needed - _present tense_ , meaning the witch was still there. She let her brother dive into all the details of his discipline techniques for another thirty minutes before she decided it was time to take her leave.

As she stood up from the sofa Nyx asked, “Where are you off to? Please don’t go all the way back to Velaris. Father will assign me to the Delinquent Desk if he finds out I let you winnow that far after drinking.”

“I’ll be back later. I’m going to see if Vance is around. You are _positively_ boring.”

Her answer earned a wiggle of Nyx’s dark eyebrows. “Fine then,” he grumbled with a wave of his hand. “I feel obligated to remind you that you are way too pure for him, but I’m not going to stand in the way of your _entertainment_.”

“Don’t wait up,” she responded with a wink before walking out the door into the cold night.

She walked for several steps before winnowing, in case her brother’s Fae ears were listening. She didn’t enjoy blatantly lying to him, but he would not have let her go visit the old witch if he’d know that was her plan. Letting him believe she was spending the rest of the night with Vance, the older male Azriel had been referring to, was easier.

Vance wasn’t actually that old - he was maybe pushing two hundred. He was more chivalrous than most Illyrian males and been nothing but nice to Astra and had always shown Nyx respect. When Astra was seventeen, she had taken a page out of Mor’s book and decided she wanted to lose her virginity to an Illyrian warrior. She had met him while visiting Nyx at the camp and was instantly attracted to him. They snuck off to the woods in the dead of night together. He had been a _good_ choice.

Nyx knew about him and obviously Azriel had been informed by his spying shadows, but Astra was fairly certain her parents hadn’t been informed since they’d never brought it up.

Rather than trying to find him, she winnowed closer to the run-down shack where Theda, the old Illyrian witch, still resided.

When Astra was little, Nyx had told her scary stories before bed about the female. Nobody knew exactly how old Theda was, but she had already been old when Astra’s father was a child. She was apparently only half-Illyrian and her father had been a warrior from Rask. Being a half-breed had instantly made the Illyrians not trust her and they downright despised her when they discovered she had inherited magic from her father. Supposedly, her powers manifested when the males in the village clipped her wings. She had vowed that she saw death in their futures while they held her down to make the incisions. Nobody still alive knows exactly what happened, but every Illyrian involved wound up mysteriously dead not long after and since then, it was believed she had _predicted_ their deaths.

The remaining Illyrians in Windhaven and the surrounding villages were so terrified of her that they left her alone as long as she minded her own business and lived far away from them.

A few hundred years ago, a group of young males dared one another to prove their bravery by hiking up to Theda’s hut and ask her to read their fortunes, thinking that was her ability. They each offered her useful items in exchange for information on what was to come. She had told all those young males something, but it wound up not mattering, for when the other Illyrians found out what they had done, they killed them all on the spot for willingly engaging in _witchcraft_. Their heads were left on spikes along the path through the woods that led to Theda’s hut.

Astra had no idea if what the old female said to them was true or not - if she really did have some kind of sight. She was holding out hope that she might find answers here since the star-spirit had said _the key to triumph lay outside of the City of Starlight._ Illyria was _outside_ of Velaris, so it was worth a shot.

Asking her Aunt Elain might have been easier, but Astra knew that she wouldn’t keep it from Lucien and he preferred to stay on Feyre’s good side, so he’d rat her out. Plus, her family tended to prefer that Elain be kept out of conflict and they rarely asked her to use the gifts the Cauldron bestowed upon her.

After winnowing, Astra appeared a few miles north of Windhaven. The hut was just a short hike away, located up the side of the nearest mountain. The female must have some kind of magic because the area ahead of her was warded against winnowing and maybe even flying.

She began trudging through the snow - it was much deeper here than it had been at the camp. It was risky, but she let out a small bit of her magic. A bright glow emanated from her body, allowing her to see where she was walking in the dark.

As she made her way up the overgrown path that cut through the trees, she became wary of the shadows. Latching on to the power humming beneath her skin, she sent out a small flare of bright energy to burn away any spying shadows that might report back to Azriel on her whereabouts. It was one of the few _controlled_ uses of her power that she could manage aside from shielding and cracking wards.

After fifteen minutes, Astra knew she was heading in the right direction for she saw the first long, metal spike sticking out of the frozen ground. If she looked close enough, she might be able to find the bones of the skull that had been shoved on it long ago. Realizing she must be getting close, she pulled the item she had brought to give to Theda in exchange for information on her future - information that might shed light on the warning from the star-spirit.

Late last night while formulating this plan, Astra had realized that she would need to present the witch with something useful like her brother had said the other males had in his story. She snuck down to the storage area in the River House to find something that wouldn’t be missed. When she had retrieved the diamonds for her Starfall dress with Mor, she had seen loads of objects that her parents had no use for and likely didn’t even remember they owned.

It hadn’t taken her long to select something from the overflowing piles and stacked chests. She had found a metal box about the size of her hand. Flames had been etched into the sides and the inscription on the lid read, _To provide warmth, even in the coldest places._

As someone who disliked the cold, it had intrigued her. Inside the box, she found a clear orb that fit into the palm of her hand. Unmoving red flames resided in the center of the glass orb. Astra hadn’t been sure how to activate it, but if Theda really was a witch or had magic, surely she could figure it out.

While standing by the first spike in the forest, Astra again examined the orb. Access to warmth in the Illyrian mountains without having to chop wood or build a fire seemed invaluable and worthy of a trade. She turned back toward the upward path and debated what to say to Theda. She didn’t want to seem desperate for answers but any little bit of information that could help her decipher what was stolen in the East or if she might ever manage to master her powers could help.

After passing by the fourth spike, Astra heard the beating of wings above. She’d didn’t even bother to waste time trying to see above her, instead she sprinted farther up the narrow mountainside path. She didn’t make it far - hadn’t had time to gain enough speed to be uncatchable.

A winged male landed with a strong force directly ahead, blocking her path. Her momentum didn’t allow her to stop quick enough to avoid slamming into the muscled chest.

Leather-clad arms shot out to steady her before she fell, causing her to drop the orb in the snowbank.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Astra?” Nyx growled.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back while ripping herself out of his tight grip.

He let out a dark, humorlos laugh before saying, “I went to the tavern after you left in an attempt to see if the cute female server would join me in bed. _Imagine my surprise_ when I saw Vance at one of the tables without you. When he denied seeing you, I knew you must be doing something foolish and I wasn’t drunk enough to to forget your question about the old witch.”

“Am I supposed to congratulate you now on being clever?” She hissed as she assessed his current stance in front of her. Getting by him was going to be a problem. With his wings spread wide, he took up nearly the entire width of the path.

Nyx ignored her rude question and kept pushing. “Are you out of your mind? Did you even think about what might happen if anybody else had seen you up here or found out your destination? For Cauldron’s sake, you aren’t even being subtle - you are glowing right now.” Nyx’s face was turning bright red and darkness was leaking from his body, but he paved on. “At best - Devlon would have filed a formal complaint to father and barred you from Windhaven. At worst - I would have been forced to kill every single person in that village to keep them from putting your head on one of these damn spikes.”

Astra hated the idea of Nyx having to kill people for her. Especially people he actually liked. She tried to keep her voice calm as she said, “You are overreacting and you sound exactly like father right now.”

“There is nothing that Theda might be able tell you that would be worth the risk. Let’s go before anyone realizes we’re both gone.”

Astra didn’t want to physically fight her brother and using her powers on him was out of the question - she could wind up killing him on accident. “Fine,” she huffed as she shuffled over to where the orb still lay.

Nyx spotted it and swatted her out of the way with a wing, causing her to stumble a few paces away. He plucked it out of the snow and brought it closer to his face to examine it while asking, “What is this?”

“It’s just some ball of fire I found in the storage area, she replied. “I think it was given to mother and father as a solstice gift. Clearly they have no use for it since mother can make her own fire.”

“Any idea why it’s warm and flickering?” Nyx questioned.

 _Shit_ , thought Astra. It hadn’t done that when she’d touched it. She stepped closer to get a better look at it in his hand. It was sort of _beautiful_ \- flames wavering within the clear glass.

Astra’s trance was broken when a whooshing sound filled her ears. Looking around, she realized that the snow and loose pine needles on the ground seemed to be getting sucked toward them. She reached her arm out and wrapped her hand around Nyx’s wrist to try to force him to let it go, for he seemed to still be stuck in the trance.

It was too late. A heartbeat after she grabbed him, she felt herself being forcibly folded into the space around them. It was like winnowing, but much more painful and very disorienting.

They landed on a beach of sorts. A beach made up of large, slippery rocks on the edge of what appeared to be a small, standalone island.

Nyx was still clutching the orb but a look of bewilderment was plastered on his face.

“It transported us here. How is that possible?” he asked in a tone higher than his usual octave.

Panic was settling within Astra. She immediately snuffed out her power to keepfrom losing control of it before responding, “It doesn’t matter, not right now. We need to figure out where we are and how to get back before anyone notices our absence.”

That was when Nyx turned and took in their surroundings. The seemingly endless ocean lay on one side and a dreary, small mass of land covered with more grey rocks and dull trees lay on the other.

Astra latched back on to Nyx while he surveyed the area with the gaze of a warrior. She attempted to winnow them back but was met with resistance. Strong wards were preventing their escape. She reached out with her mind to get a better feel of what type of wards they were dealing with.

It felt like a wall - ancient and impenetrable. She tried pulsing it with with a bit of energy but it simply bounced back off.

“We are trapped,” she told Nyx. “The wards, I...I need time to try to figure it out and search for weaknesses.”

Nyx whipped his head to her when he heard the waver in her voice. “Don’t panic, little sister. We will maintain our current position where we have a view of anyone coming while you sort out the wards. You’ve always been excellent at shredding them.”

A small nod of her head was Astra’s only response as she sat down on the large, wet rock and crossed her legs. She threw all her concentration into examining the wards, but a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she should even bother trying. If they were gone long enough, their parents would be notified and begin searching. They had saved Prythian on a number of occasions, surely they could manage to find their missing children.


End file.
